


Challenge Six: Cycles

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Other, Summer Pornathon 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-14 09:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 90,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2185788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for Challenge Six: Cycles for the 2014 Summer Pornathon.</p><p>The voting post can be found <a href="http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/107180.html">here</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (with warnings)

1.

 **Pairings** Elyan/Vivian  
 **Warnings** blood

It's not like Vivian expected to be turned down when she paused the terrible film Elyan brought over and climbed into his lap, but it still makes her feel kind of giddy when he rakes his hands through her hair, rocks his hips up and kisses her back. The reality is definitely measuring up to the fantasies she'd found herself entertaining, sitting unnecessarily close to him as she had been on her ginormous sofa.

"This all right?" Elyan asks, unbuttoning her dress. Vivian thinks about telling him she could've wriggled out of it after the first few buttons, but the light, careful brush of his fingers feels far better than it has any right to.

She fastens her mouth to the side of his neck instead, scraping her teeth over the skin. Elyan moans, and Vivian didn't think she liked guys being vocal but she bites down again, harder, and the noises she earns make arousal pulse right through her. 

"Oi, you trying to give me a hickey?" Elyan pushes half-heartedly at her chest. "I don't bruise easily, y'know."

Vivian's never one to turn down a challenge, but Elyan pulls his shirt over his head before she can lunge at him again, which is just _cheating_ , because then she's too distracted by his abs to do anything but stare. And grind her hips into his thigh, gripping the muscle of his upper arms to steady herself, of course. Elyan's hand slips into her knickers, and it's not that his jeans had felt bad sliding against her, but rocking against his knuckles, one thick finger moving inside her, is even better.

"I'm so wet," she murmurs, right in his ear. Every other guy she's slept with seemed to be really into that, but not Elyan. He frowns.

"No you're not," he says, pulling his fingers free. "You're bleeding."

"Motherfucker," she hisses, stilling her hips, because he's right. Elyan's hand is stained red, which means her dress and knickers probably are too. "That's not _fair_ , it's a whole fucking week early."

Elyan doesn't push her off him, or make a disgusted face, or even try and wipe his fingers off on something. Instead, he just laughs. "Do you always swear more when you're on your period? Because I have to say I approve."

"I wanted to _fuck_ ," she says, plaintive, which only makes Elyan laugh again. Guys never laugh at anything Vivian says. It's incredibly irritating, as is the way it makes her chest feel all weird and fluttery.

"What," he says, "never had menstrucourse?"

Vivian makes a face. "Gross," she says, and Elyan says, "It's just blood and dead uterus," and Vivian makes another face.

Elyan kisses her nose. "Of course, if you're not comfortable-"

Vivian yanks his face down so they're kissing properly. "I'm comfortable," she growls, shoving at his chest until his head hits the arm of the sofa. "Are _you_?"

Elyan looks up at her, his eyes wide, his jaw slack. "Fuck yeah," he says. "It'd be less messy if I were on top, but I really have no objection to you bleeding all over me."

Part of Vivian is thinking that she can already feel blood trickling down her thigh, probably dripping onto Elyan's chest because of the way she's straddling him, and she should really put a tampon in and change her knickers and maybe shower, too, not necessarily in that order. A far larger part, however, wants to hold Elyan down and fuck him until her - beige crocodile leather, cost a small fortune - sofa looks like a battlefield. 

"Good," she says, and starts to undo his belt.

(After, she'll collapse on top of him, barely mindful of the red lines smeared across his belly, red lines that she put there with every needy thrust of her hips. It'll be enough to send aftershocks jittering through her legs, and Vivian will sigh and Elyan will glance over with this smile on his face which can only be described as fond. 

"Whatever," she'll say, rolling her eyes, "are you going to carry me to the bathroom so we can fuck in the shower or what?")

–--------------

2.

 **Pairing** : Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** : none

There’s a guy in Merlin’s organic chemistry lecture who has the thighs of a god. Not one of those minor gods either - Merlin’s talking class-A, Adonis-type shit here.

The guy is usually late and sneaks in the back door, inevitably sitting down a couple of rows in front of Merlin, and Merlin spends the rest of the class sneaking looks at him. Merlin assumes he’s late because he obviously rides his bike to uni - he always has a helmet strapped to his backpack and nine times out of ten he’s wearing spandex shorts.

 _Spandex_.

It will be a miracle if Merlin passes chem this semester.

*** 

The professor is rambling about amino acids the first time Merlin talks to him. The guy’s normal seat is taken, and when he ducks in through the back door, he pauses, frowning. And then he looks down the row at Merlin and gestures to the empty seat beside him.

Merlin nods, and looks back to the front, because spandex shorts guy is sitting right next to him, those perfect thighs on full display. 

Afterwards, the guy sticks out his hand.

“I’m Arthur,” he says, and his smile is crooked and his eyes are blue and Merlin is gone.

***

Arthur invites him to his next race, in a kind of hesitating voice that doesn’t fit at all with his usually (overly) confident demeanour.

“Most people don’t find it that interesting,” he admits. “They’d rather go to the footy games. They’re idiots,” he adds a moment later, in much more Arthur fashion.

Merlin rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come but I can’t guarantee I’ll stay awake,” he teases, and Arthur punches his shoulder. 

***

It’s kind of weird - Merlin doesn’t know anything about cycling, really, didn’t even know the university had a velodrome (or that it was even _called_ a velodrome.) Arthur spent a good half an hour explaining individual pursuit to him in the library last week, but Merlin still doesn’t really get it.

It doesn’t matter, though, because Merlin’s eyes are glued to Arthur the entire time. Merlin thought his usual black shorts were good but shit, this is something else. The paper-thin fabric is molded perfectly to Arthur’s body as he steps out and okay, the helmet is kind of weird but those _thighs_. 

He cheers along with the small crowd when Arthur’s announced and then they’re off and - fuck. Arthur is so good - he’s fast and strong and seeing those muscles work is doing terrible, terrible things to Merlin. 

***

Arthur’s coy afterwards, brushing off his time. 

“It was only qualifying,” he says, shrugging. “And I didn’t think my form was very good in the final kilometre.”

He’s standing in front of Merlin, wearing stupid looking leggings and his hair is damp and Merlin can’t help himself.

He tips forward and kisses Arthur, hands clutching the front of his hoodie. Arthur starts, and then he _laughs_ , before he pulls Merlin closer and starts kissing him back.

“Didn’t know my cycling got you hot,” he says, and Merlin can hear the smirk. 

“Spandex,” he says coherently, leaning back in for more of Arthur’s mouth.

***

Arthur is sprawled in the tiny armchair in the corner of Merlin’s room, and Merlin is kneeling between his thighs. He runs his palms up them, over the fabric, pushing them even further apart.

They do nothing to hide Arthur’s erection.

Merlin lowers his head, mouthing slowly at the outline of Arthur’s cock, eyes raised to watch Arthur’s reaction. 

“Fuck,” Arthur says, head thudding back. “You’re a fucking tease.” 

Merlin takes his time, pleased with the accusation, mouthing and sucking until the fabric is soaked, and then peeling the leggings off and resettling between Arthur’s thighs. They feel even better without the barrier - smooth and strong - and his dick is hard and leaking and Merlin can’t wait any longer.

He’s too worked up for it to be the best blowjob he’s ever given, but Arthur doesn’t seem to mind, rocking into his mouth and moaning. Merlin pulls off before Arthur comes, just in time to jerk him off all over Merlin’s chest.

“Your turn,” Arthur says, hauling him up and tipping them onto Merlin’s bed.

It turns out his thighs are exactly as good for rubbing off against as Merlin imagined. 

 

–--------------------------

3.

 **Pairings:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None.

 

“You've got to be _joking_ …” Merlin stares, mouth dropping open. “Tell me you're not joking.”

In the distance of grassy field, the inverted teardrop shape of the hot-air balloon slowly inflates.

Arthur grumbles, “If you think over twenty-eight training hours to fly the bloody thing is a—” Merlin's lips cut him off, pressing firmly and clumsily against him, teeth clinking almost painfully into Arthur's. It's not the smoothest kiss achieved in history, but Merlin doubts he cares as Arthur leans fully into him.

“I knew it was gonna be a good anniversary when I saw you in these.” Merlin emphasizes his point, fingers dragging under the hem of Arthur's skin-tight cycling shorts. They're the professional-made ones with sporty red stripes over the black padded-material. Arthur's bum looks like _heaven_ in them.

Arthur's no longer grumbling, expression sour. Merlin's happy to recognize that mad, little grin.

*

They're possibly six hundred feet in altitude, and Merlin feels breathless.

He can't blame it on the view entirely—as spectacular as it is, high above treetops and glimmering surfaces of ponds. But no, he's feeling pleasure from a conflicting source.

Arthur's nomex-gloved hands thumb his bare hips, keeping Merlin upright, steady. He won't question the gloves. Piloting requires fire-resistant safety gloves. Besides, Arthur's tongue draws a hot, spit-wet line over Merlin's cleft, and he can't think with the raw-feeling sensation quivering his thighs.

Merlin keeps his weight forward, not rocking them. He clutches at a rope, biting down a moan as Arthur licks his way inside, gathering saliva and _pushing_ it back against his hole.

Should Arthur be distracted from navigating, kneeling behind Merlin and wanking him off simultaneously? 

Probably not.

Was Merlin going to stop him?

Absolutely _fucking_ not.

“Arthur, oh christ,” Merlin whines out, cheeks flaming brightly. He bows his head, thrusting into Arthur's fingers. They stroke along the foreskin sensitive and damp. 

They float over what appears to be a picnic. The family waving can't see Merlin waist-down or even the top of Arthur's head, small blessings. Nor hear Merlin's wrecked voice. 

“You're—nn—daft, _mother of god_ , right there…”

The tongue fucking Merlin slips out, leaving him clenching empty and slick-slimy. Arthur doesn't let up stripping Merlin's cock. 

“I need to check the burner unit,” he says, kissing Merlin's sweating back.

“ _Ar_ thur…”

“Stop whining,” he chides, feeling Merlin wriggle impatiently against his mouth before going completely still.

“Arthur.”

“Merlin, it's only—”

“Arthur, we're going to hit a fucking tree!” Merlin yells, turning his head. 

At the flash of genuine panic in his eyes, Arthur scrambles onto his feet, heading for the propane valve and tugging on ropes.

“Shit!” he curses, Arthur's face paling. “We've gone too low. The wind direction is too strong.”

Merlin hesitates from buttoning up his jeans. 

“Ehm, what… ?” he asks in a soft, distressed breath. Arthur pulls him to the opposite end of the wicker basket, covering Merlin's back and holding him tightly in place.

“Brace yourself, Merlin!”

“ _WHAT_ —!”

It's startlingly fast, and more violent than Merlin expects. Feels like getting whiplash.

He finds himself thrown backwards and rolling, crash-landing on his boyfriend. One of Arthur's gloved hands snatches on the collar of Merlin's band t-shirt, just as Merlin wraps an arm securely around Arthur. With great, dizzying relief, he knows the basket isn't spilling them out. They're not so high up, but even falling at this height—it would be immensely problematic.

“You alright?” Arthur says under him, gazing concerned at Merlin deeply shaken.

“M'fine…” He then asks quietly, tightening his arm to Arthur, “Are you?”

“Think so.”

He heaves up, crawling off Arthur. 

“It's not going to explode, is it?” Merlin says nervously, as Arthur double-checks their equipment and calls an emergency number. The visibly punctured balloon increasingly less and less domed.

“Shut up, Merlin.”

A prickle of anger seizes him. “You're the one supposed to be _piloting_ the damn thing!” Merlin snaps.

Arthur whirls around at him, eyes narrowing to slits.

“I was _busy_ trying to…!” He sputters indignant when Merlin yanks him close, noses brushing. Merlin's fingers greedily roam over the solid curve of Arthur's bum.

“So, how long until the rescue team gets here?” he murmurs into Arthur's jaw, smiling widely at the noticeable shudder.

“An hour…?"

“Plenty of time,” Merlin answers, giddy and red-flushed and working Arthur's hardening cock from his cycling shorts. Plenty of it for a good, _looong_ apology.

–------------------------

4.

 **Pairings:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None

 _This time it's for good_ , Merlin thought as he walked down the street, his arms full of clothing he'd grabbed. 

He was exhausted from the shouting and accusations, and from Arthur's final, “Just go then.” 

Merlin tried not to look at Arthur as he left, but he'd caved. What he saw surprised him. Arthur's eyes had stopped looking angry; instead they looked hurt.

But how could Arthur be hurt? 

_You're the one who hides things from me. I've been up front from the start. You know who I am._ Arthur's words echoed in Merlin's mind. 

But did that mean Arthur didn't have to tell his family about Merlin? Why should Merlin bother loving someone who didn't love him back? 

Gwaine raised an eyebrow when Merlin returned to the flat.

“Again?”

“Fuck off,” Merlin muttered as he unceremoniously tossed his clothes into his room.

“You at least get your Hitchcock box set this time?”

“Fuck.”

“I would never tell you how to live your life, but I take it as a character flaw that Princess doesn't like _Rear Window_.”

Merlin slumped down beside Gwaine and didn't respond. 

* * * * * 

That weekend while doing laundry, Merlin realized he'd taken one of Arthur's shirts. 

He tried to sneak back into Arthur's flat on Monday to return it, but Arthur was home. He should have been at work. He was _always_ at work. 

“My DVDs for your shirt,” Merlin said coldly.

They fucked on the sofa that afternoon. Merlin initiated it, but Arthur didn't object. Merlin got Arthur onto his back and rode hard and fast on Arthur's cock. It was raw and dirty, and Merlin hoped the bite he left on Arthur's shoulder lasted for days. 

When Merlin left, he made sure he wasn't forgetting anything else.

* * * * * 

It was three weeks and two days later at Gwen and Leon's party. When Merlin spotted Arthur, he put on a show, grinding against Percival to the heavy beat.

When their eyes met, Arthur spun on his heel and left the room. 

Merlin followed and caught up to him in the dark hallway.

“What was that?” Arthur asked.

“That was dancing.”

“That was grinding. Percival doesn't even like blokes.”

“I was clearly trying to make you jealous!”

Arthur's chest was heaving as though he were out of breath. In one fell swoop, he crowded Merlin against the wall and kissed him like he needed Merlin's breath to survive.

“I don't want you touching anyone else,” Arthur murmured as he pulled back.

“You can't say things like that. You don't have any claim--”

Merlin cut himself off by slamming his lips back on Arthur's. His hands when right for Arthur's belt in a practised move, but Arthur stopped him.

“We should talk.” 

“Talk about what?”

“How you jump to conclusions about everything. How you don't trust me. How you always assume the worst. I'm not Will, you know. I'm never going to be Will.”

Merlin's stomach dropped, heavy with the truth in Arthur's words.

“Well how am I supposed to trust you when you're so ambivalent towards me? I didn't even know Morgana was your sister, and she obviously knew nothing about me. It was humiliating.”

“You think I'm ambivalent? I've turned my life upside down for you. Morgana and I speak once a year with solicitors present. Running into her was a fluke. You're the one who is constantly looking for a way out!” 

“What are you talking about?”

“The last time we had sex, you barely looked at me! You got off my dick and were out of there before you could get your shirt on.” 

“You should have chased me!” 

“You wanted me to?”

“Of course I did.” 

“Oh.”

Then Arthur was back on him. His hands were familiar in all the right places. He let Merlin push him against the wall and pull their cocks out. Merlin wrapped his hand around them both. Arthur added his hand over top. 

They kissed frantically while their hands were busy. Merlin buried his face in Arthur's shoulder to muffle his moan when he came.

“I'll chase you next time,” Arthur said afterwards.

Merlin felt the knot in his stomach loosen and heard the little voice in his head say this time would be different. 

He wanted to believe the lie.

–---------

5.

 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** none

Arthur looked at himself in the mirror. H was wearing cycling shorts and a tight fitting muscle shirt. Honestly, if this didn't get the attention of his spin class instructor, Merlin, he did not know what would. 

He knew he looked good, the shorts were almost up his arse they were so tight, but yet Merlin was still ignoring him. Arthur knew Merlin liked men and he was pretty sure he had made his intentions clear for weeks. Between asking Merlin for private instructions some weeks from constantly messing up his posture so Merlin would come and fix it, he had to know something was up. Arthur was getting a little desperate, he knew, but Merlin was nice and hot and Arthur could not help himself. 

The shorts were supposed to be his ace in the hole, but had Merlin walked past his exercise bike without so much as a "hello" and Arthur huffed.

After class, pouring with sweat and maybe a little tears, Arthur finally approached Merlin when they were alone. 

"Hey Merlin-"

Merlin sighed and turned around before Arthur could get his sentence out.

"What are you playing at, Pendragon? You come in here with your tiny stripper shorts, I'm surprised you didn't give old Ms. Cleary a heart attack." Merlin glared a little and Arthur nearly swooned. He did grin though.

"You noticed my shorts?" He wiggled his eyebrows and encroached on Merlin's space. Merlin's face was already red from the work out but got redder as Arthur crowded him against a wall. 

"Aliens in space noticed your shorts, Arthur. Get over yourself." But Merlin's words held no real heat. Arthur used his hand to guide Meriln's jaw upwards and finally kissed the man he had been dreaming about for weeks. He was surprised to find Merlin respond so enthusiastically. He grabbed onto Arthur's hair and hoisted himself onto Arthur's hips, wrapping his legs around.

"Goddamn. I've wanted you for ages." Merlin whispered into Arthur's lips. Arthur felt the heat of Merlin's erection against his own and thought he could come just like this. But part of him wanted more. He pulled down his and Merlin's cycling shorts and grasped their erections in one hand. They were both slick with precome and sweat so Arthur did not have any trouble jerking them both off quickly. 

Merlin made the prettiest noises and begged and Arthur thought, for not the first time, that he was perfect. He came on that thought, with his tongue all over Merlin's neck. Merlin came soon after, yelling and biting into Arthur's shoulder. It was the best sort of pain. 

When they were done and cleaned up Merlin popped the band on Arthur's shorts.

"So I guess since you got me, you won't need to wear these to class again." 

Arthur grinned, wrapping his arms around Merlin's waist.

"Are you kidding? The mighty courtship of Merlin Emrys has just begun."

–-------------------

6.

 **Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Brief mention of past major character death in a reincarnation context

 

“A washing machine?” Merlin said in horror. “You can't be serious!”

“Entirely serious,” Arthur replied calmly. 

“We don't need one! I remove our blood and dirt and sweat and spunk with a mere flick of my wrist!” 

“I had it installed today.”

Merlin frowned, confused. “Why would we waste time waiting _hours_ for a machine to finish, and then maybe have to fold and iron and... and whatever it is ordinary people _do_ with their laundry?”

“Just listen to yourself,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “We're here to protect the people. You must be able to identify with their lives. Remember when you actually polished my armour and brought me my meals with your very own hands?”

He looked into Merlin's eyes. “I love you dearly, powerful magic and all, but every time the cycle of reincarnation brings me back to you, our lives have become even less mundane. You manage our cooking and cleaning and world surveillance with brazen sorcery.”

“Because it's efficient," Merlin grumbled. "Once the next warlock bent on world destruction shows up – and you know it won't be long – we can't tell his evil minions to wait while the washer finishes, so we'll have clean socks to put on.”

“When the next warlock appears, what we don't want is our neighbours alerting the forces of darkness to our presence. If the Smiths think we're just ordinary blokes doing laundry, they won't be curious about the rumbling din from our place. It's just that troublesome noisy old washer, you know, it's neither you casting thunder-spells to incapacitate hell-hounds, nor me dispatching zombies with Excalibur.” 

He nudged Merlin gently. “You never know which special skills will be required. Knowledge of fabric softeners and colour-preserving detergents may help us win the next war.”

"Bollocks." Merlin sulked. "I'll show you colours.” 

A hand gesture, a muttered spell, and Arthur's jeans and shirt started cycling through the bright hues of the rainbow. 

“Merlin! Stop it! I look like a disco ball!”

Merlin grinned. “Remember last time we saved the world? The crazy Seventies! Your 'Saturday Night Fever' get-up was totally hot.” 

He squeezed Arthur's shoulder, which shifted from violet via red to orange. "You managed some groovy moves on the dance floor to vanquish that monstrous disco demon.” 

“Your power-zapping spells during 'Dancing Queen' made all the difference.”

Merlin shivered. He snuggled closer. “But you died! I _hate_ it every time you die from me.”

“What's important is that I'm back now. And we're going to use our washing machine.”

“Single-mindedly focused on your goal, as always.”

“Indeed. Let's look at the instructions.”

“How old-fashioned!” Merlin glanced at Arthur's booklet and groaned. “Pre-soak....extra delicate... synthetic fibres.....water temperature. Too many choices! Aaargh!”

Arthur nuzzled Merlin's neck. “It beats the old washboard and tub routine, wouldn't you say? And I have an idea: Every time we use that machine, we'll replicate its programme - in bed. That's a solemn promise, immortal sorcerer of mine. How's that for motivation, hmmm?”

Merlin's eyes brightened. “So if we choose, say, the _Steam treatment_ cycle, you'll.... ?”

“Blow you in the shower, of course”. 

"Brilliant!" Merlin squeaked with glee. “What about _Permanent press, fast/slow_?”

Arthur's tongue sneaked out to lick at Merlin's pink ear. “I'll hold you down and take you, fast and hard. Then you can top and go as slow as you please, until I beg for mercy.... or the washer finishes.“

“You've convinced me! Two blokes doing laundry - let's start right now!" 

His eyes suddenly glowing pure gold, Merlin whisked away every item of Arthur's colour-shifting clothes. They disappeared into the washer. Arthur was left sitting stark naked on the couch. 

“Merlin!” 

Merlin winked and magicked his own clothes away too.

Arthur grumbled. “No sorcery, remember?”

Merlin threw himself at Arthur, knocking him backwards and straddling him eagerly. “That was while _washing_. You didn't mention preparations.”

Arthur laughed, covered in nude wriggling sorcerer. “When did you become such a nitpicker?”

Merlin added washing powder and pushed control buttons from across the room. “Since you made me use a _machine_ to.... uhm, handle nits?“

He rubbed against Arthur urgently, full-body hot skin on skin, his hands reaching for the hardening royal cock. “I'll have you know I just started the _Heavy duty with maximum spin_ cycle. You'd better get with the programme, your Majesty!”

–----------------------

7.

 **Pairings** M/A  
 **Warnings** None

**The Life Cycle of a Relationship**

 

**Pre- Relationship**

“Arthur, this is an intervention.”

Arthur laughed.

He laughed until he realised he was the only one laughing and that perhaps Gwen might not have been joking.

Arthur scoffed at his three nearest and dearest friends in disbelief.

“Well I sure hope it’s not about drinking because then this Margarita Sunday is going to get awkward very fast,” Arthur stated bringing his decidedly alcoholic beverage to his lips in defiance.

It was a rubbish intervention anyway. There wasn’t even a banner.

“It’s not about you drinking Arthur,” Lance assured him in his perfectly calm ‘Lance’ tones. “We’re just worried we haven’t seen you dating for awhile.”

Arthur scowled heavily at all of them and took another drink.

“You just don’t seem to be happy…” Lance trailed off looking at him with big concerned eyes as if he were a child lost on his way home.

“I’m perfectly happy,” Arthur blustered. “And I’ll have you know I went out with someone last week.”

Morgana snorted at him and took a long drag of her cigarette before blowing the smoke directly in his face. She was a dragon at heart, and like a dragon she took no prisoners.

“A hook up isn’t a relationship,” her teeth gleamed white and he had to remind himself she couldn’t eat him. “Besides I bet you can’t even remember that blokes name.”

Arthur couldn’t but he was hardly going to allow his friends to best him.

“Like you can all throw stones! I’ve slept with everyone at this table at least once.”

There was a tense silence before Morgana broke it with a surprising amount of sympathy.

“Oh ducky, that’s exactly our point.”

 

**Attraction**

Despite Arthur’s certainty that he would hate anyone his friends set him up with, he rather liked Merlin.

He was handsome in that tall gangly, could be from another planet, model kind of way, and Arthur wouldn’t be opposed to a roll in the hay with him, so to speak.

A relationship though, was a whole other matter.

The small Italian restaurant Gwen had booked them into seemed to foster conversation and they talked easily; Merlin smiling at Arthurs light ribbing while Merlin teased back in good nature.

A baby crying broke the atmosphere and Arthur scowled as he launched into a tirade against children as Merlin listened in bemusement.

“My god you’re a prat,” Merlin concluded, leaning in to kiss Arthur anyway. “I don’t even know why I like you.”

Arthur smiled and returned the kiss.

“I am rather attractive,” Arthur said once they broke apart.

“Yes,” Merlin agreed in confusion, “But I’m a teacher.”

 

**The ‘Honeymoon’ Stage**

The sex was spectacular, and even though Merlin was a bit of an idiot he was perfect in almost every way. 

His cock was a gift to mankind and when he smiled Arthur was sure there was no one else more perfect in the universe.

 

**Reality**

“Do you have to go Arthur?” Merlin asked for what felt like the tenth time but was actually the first. 

Perhaps it felt like the tenth time to him because every time Arthur looked at him Merlin’s entire body seemed to hunch in on itself, his bright blue eyes unconsciously begging him to stay.

Arthur gritted his teeth in annoyance and turned towards the mirror to straighten his tie.

“He’s my father Merlin, and if he believes it would be beneficial for the company if I wined and dined this Mithian Nemeth, then I believe him.”

“This isn’t just a business meeting Arthur,” Merlin suddenly rose from his hunched form into the man Arthur new and kept expanding until his entire presence filled the room. “Your father wants you to marry this girl. Don’t deny it!”

“Maybe he does,” Arthur conceded, turning to cup Merlin’s cheek with his hand, “But I love you.”

Arthur rested his forehead against merlin’s own. 

“Shouldn’t that be all that matters.”

 

**Commitment**

“You need to shit or get off the pot Arthur.”

“What the hell Morgana?” Arthur asked, his nose wrinkling with distaste. “What does that even mean?”

Morgana narrowed her eyes.

“Merlin’s waiting for you Arthur. He stares at you when you’re not looking, and he doesn’t even trash talk you when we complain about you when you’re not around,” Morgana smirked.

“He loves you, but I’m not sure you love him.”

“Of course I love him,” Arthur said outraged.

“If you really loved him, you wouldn’t be playing Uther’s games Ducky,” Morgana lit another cigarette. “You need to choose. It's time to shit or get off the pot.” Her eyes seemed alive with some understanding Arthur couldn’t yet grasp as she blew smoke rings at him.

Yep, she was definitely a dragon. 

–---------------

8.

 **Pairings:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** mentions of underage, dub-con, abo dynamics 

Arthur found out he was an omega the hard way. Literally. Arthur hadn’t even contemplated the idea until Leon had him pinned down and rubbed the freakishly hard line of his cock against Arthur’s backside. He’d understood pretty quickly after that though. 

Luckily, even at sixteen Leon had the unbelievable self restraint he’d always had and managed to yell for Arthur to run, to go, to get to his chambers! All the while he’d still rutted.

The shouts were enough to break Arthur from the stupor the feel Leon’s hardness left him in. 

He’d never run so fast in his life.

\--

Being an omega wasn’t so tough, Arthur learned. As long as no one beside Leon or Gaius ever found out, that was. It hadn’t ever been too hard to keep a secret. Since he’d yet to find a mate his smells could be hidden quite well. Arthur figured the only thing that would give him trouble was dodging any attempts at marriage that Uther threw his way. Arthur had quickly accepted that he was going to have to marry for love, because no princess wanted an omega husband and Arthur was not letting himself get offered to another kingdom like some other prince’s prize maiden. Other than that, being an omega wasn’t so bad at all . . . 

It was on an overnight hunting trip when Arthur learned how very wrong this notion was.

\--

Merlin cried out as tight, hot wetness enveloped his cock. He could feel himself swelling into the heat already. He couldn’t help it. Everything about the omega beneath Merlin was so perfect. The way the other was dripping wet for Merlin’s hardness had him out of his mind. 

And Gods, Merlin thought as he nuzzled into the blond hairs at the base of the other’s neck. His fucking scent.

Merlin couldn’t have told a soul how he managed to get himself from point A to point B. 

Point A being on the path toward Camelot to live with his mother’s friend, and point B being balls deep in the most delectable heat he’d ever felt. Not that he’d ever felt any other heat or anything, but Merlin was pretty sure this one was special.

Not to mention that the omega--his omega, Merlin’s mind helpfully supplied--was the most gorgeous specimen of human life Merlin had ever seen. The moment Merlin had laid eyes on him he’d wanted nothing more than to mate. Merlin had never in his life had such a desire to claim. 

And claim he had.

Merlin didn’t fight off the swelling in his cock. It felt so full, so hard, but the sensation was even better. His body and his magic both thrummed pleasantly as he snapped in and out of the omega’s clinging walls. At this point, Merlin didn’t think he could’ve held off his knot if he wanted to try.

The omega had no protest, and Merlin knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the other’s body had probably taken over his sense long before Merlin had even arrived. After all, stumbling onto an unmated omega opening himself up with nearly five fingers in the middle of the woods had to be a rare occurrence. 

However as Merlin felt the tight heat open up and accept the thick base of his cock, he reasoned that it had to be fate or something. 

Yes, Merlin thought as he emptied into the body beneath and frantically sniffed up their mingled scents. Definitely destiny.

\--

When Arthur had woke up with lanky limbs tied around him and an alphas thickness still deep in his heat he knew he was so beyond screwed. 

That was why he had to leave the poor sap there, Arthur knew he was ruining both their lives by running away. They’d mated. Arthur felt it and with the way the alpha had reacted to him, Arthur expected he’d felt it even more. 

\--

Arthur had left that day thinking he’d never see his mate again.

Imagine Arthur’s surprise five days later when a random shout made him look across the courtyard and his eyes fell on a pasty, blue eyed alpha.

His mate. 

–-------------------

9.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** Implied Omega!verse of a sorts

** Coming On: Part 1 **

Merlin trembled as he made his way up the stairs to Arthur’s chambers, feeling his face flush and his heartbeat quicken. He knew what was happening, unexpected as it was. His heat had a horrible tendency to come early one month and late the next – as irregular as Merlin himself, Gaius said.

He closed the door to Arthur’s chambers, leaning back against the wood as he let himself relax a bit more, his cramps already starting to fade. That was one thing he hated about heat – the pains beforehand as his body prepared itself for what was to come. Merlin supposed he should count himself lucky though. At least he didn’t have a monthly bleeding _and_ a monthly heat. 

Merlin let Arthur’s armor drop to floor, his arms no longer able to hold it’s weight. He’d deal with it later. Instead, he leaned over the table, legs spread and arse up to soothe his sickly feeling.

“Isn’t that a sight.”

Merlin yelped, standing up again with a wince, blushing as he realized he hadn’t noticed Arthur sitting at his desk in his haze.

“I’ll clean it up later.” He mumbled, looking down at the armor and scuffing his feet.

“No, you won’t.” Arthur said easily, expression going soft as he padded to over to Merlin, sidling up behind him as he pressed cool hands to the slighter man’s abdomen. Merlin sighed in relief, leaning back against his lover gratefully.

“Don’t you have a council meeting?” He asked, eyes already closing.

“Told them it could wait.” Arthur murmured, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s temple. “Knew you were coming on.”

“ _I_ didn’t even know.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot.”

Merlin huffed, batting half-heartedly at Arthur. “M’not.” He mumbled, leaning into his lover’s touch as Arthur felt at his forehead. “Feel ill.”

“It’ll pass.” Arthur said soothingly before steering him towards the bed. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

Merlin was always ridiculously pliant when before (and sometimes during) his heat. Arthur always complained on him going limp, saying he couldn’t deal with Merlin’s octopus-like limbs. Merlin knew he secretly loved it though – being able to take care of him. He loved it too. After all, how could he refuse being stripped down, curling into Arthur’s side and having a nap, before the rampant sex hormones kicked in? Nothing to complain about, really.

Speaking of rampant sex hormones, Merlin felt like he had just closed his eyes when he felt himself grow hot and eager.

“Arthur….” He groaned, starting to brush his lips over his lover’s bare chest – when had that happened? – nipping at him occasionally. He felt Arthur chuckle as fingers threaded through his hair, making Merlin purr delightedly.

“Eager, are you?” Arthur asked, clearly amused. Merlin bit him slightly harder, grinning at the affronted yelp he got in return.

“Not my fault.”

“Mmm.” Arthur hummed, one hand sliding down Merlin’s back before dipping into his breeches, rubbing over his now slick hole in a way that made Merlin shiver and groan with anticipation. “Yes, you’re clearly in total agony.”

“I am.” Merlin argued, moaning as Arthur slipped a finger inside him, teasing at his rim. Arthur just laughed softly, turning Merlin so he was on his front – arse in the air – as he moved to settle behind him.

“Hush now…” He murmured, stroking a strong hand down Merlin’s spine and over his rump. “I’ve got you.”

“Then do something.” Merlin whined. 

Arthur smirked as he pressed a kiss to the small of Merlin’s back, bringing his hands up to his lover’s arse as he spread him wide. “Look at you, all wet and wide already.” He said reverently, licking a long stripe across Merlin’s hole, making the other man gasp. 

“A-Arthur –“

“Shh…” Arthur murmured, not wasting any time as he sunk two fingers into Merlin, reveling in his little cry. He dived in to lick around Merlin’s stretched rim, scissoring his fingers as he snuck his tongue between them every so often. It didn’t take long until Merlin was writhing in the bedclothes, groans muffled in the pillows. 

“Come on, baby.” Arthur purred. “One to take the edge of.”

Merlin was a beauty when he came. All flushed skin, closed eyes, and slack mouth. It was stunning, and his sounds were even better. Even when Merlin had finished for the time being and Arthur was left wanting, he was happy to tuck him back into his side and stroke his hair. 

They had his whole heat, after all. 

–------------------

10.

 **Pairings** Freya/Elena/Gwaine/Elyan  
 **Warnings** None

The cry of geese flying south echoes across the lake, bouncing back from the hillsides. Freya looks up and smiles, tracking the arc of their flight.

"Careful," Elena calls out, and Freya ducks back to work, heaving the kayaks and other small boats up the path, one by one, into the shed with Elena's help.

The cabin is more of a sprawling camp at this point, complete with four porches and nearly a dozen bedrooms. The shed they're putting the boats in is one of three dotted across the little clearing beside the lake. Rough slate steps form the path up from the dock, slippery for the unwary, and Freya keeps a close eye on her feet as she staggers under the weight.

If the boys weren't busy trying to jack one of the porches back up to level with the house, she'd make them carry everything.

As it is, she and Elena are exhausted and sweaty by the time they lock up the shed. The snick of the old padlock sounds very final to Freya - another summer over, another year gone. She blinks away the slight burn in her eyes.

"Fancy a swim?" Elena asks, and Freya says " _Yes_ " with feeling.

The water is cool like a kiss on her skin, rising up her ankles and calves as she walks over the jumble of smooth rocks to reach the soft sand deeper out. When she's in up to her shoulders, Elena comes back from checking under the dock, hair and face streaming water (and one stray piece of algae that Freya plucks out).

"Hullo," Elena grins, and pecks her on the lips. Freya kisses back, easy as a dream.

The boys come down half an hour later in their trunks, dust-covered and clearly exhausted, muttering something about chipmunks. Freya doesn't ask. 

Gwaine runs down the dock and cannonballs into the water because he's still an idiot after all these years. (Freya has given up pointedly mentioning spinal injuries around him.) Elyan follows at a more sedate pace, settling on the end of the dock with his feet in the water, gifting them all with his quiet smile as the sun slowly sinks behind the mountains and the first star peeks out.

 

Intellectually, Freya knows that if Uther Pendragon ever remembers he owns a rustic cabin on a lake his late wife bought on a whim, then real caretakers might be hired, and she and the others would never again open the house in the spring, do maintenance over the summer, and close it down every fall. But this is where the four of them began (well, technically they started at a little shack out on one of the islands, with nothing but a radio and a dartboard to keep their attention off each other). They would survive the change, she thinks, but the familiarity of it is comforting.

"Come on, then," Elyan finally says, splashing Gwaine and Elena with his foot, where they're wrestling and dunking each other like children. "Freya's getting cold, and I'm hungry."

"Food!" Both of them are out and running up the stone steps in moments, leaving behind wet footprints. Freya follows more slowly, Elyan's arm slung around her shoulders.

****

After supper, Elyan rub Elena's shoulders in the firelight, wallowing on the antique rug in front of the fireplace. Gwaine sits beside Freya on a slightly uncomfortable 1920s couch, kissing her neck in a way that will probably bruise tomorrow.

It's strange, how time and the singing of her heart in this quiet, half-abandoned cabin has taught her that the dreams she was sold as a child - a single prince charming, to give her a happily ever after - were lies spun of clouds. What she has is so much better.

What she has is Gwaine's hand sliding down over her belly to squeeze between her legs, soaking her panties. She moans and spreads, the wet sounds of Elena and Elyan kissing only urging her head back, eyes closed, heart hammering.

"Oh!" Elena cries, loud as ever, and "I want to lick Freya while you fuck me. Yeah?"

Elyan's yes is a growl, and Gwaine's is a full-body shudder while he pulls Freya's panties off and tugs her, rag-doll limp with pleasure, into his lap.

"How did I get so lucky?" he whispers, his stubble rasping against her cheek, and Freya thinks, _That's my line._

Over the sound of their harsh breathing, she can just hear the cries of geese in the distance.

–--------------

11.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** underage if you want it to be, not underage if you don't want it to be

Merlin threw his rucksack on the floor and fell onto his bed with a sigh.

“So fucking glad it’s Friday.”

Arthur set his bag down neatly before climbing on the bed to sit back against the wall. “Bad day?” he asked.

“My cock hates me. It’s determined to embarrass me every chance it gets.”

Arthur laughed. “One of those days where it won’t go down and you’ve no idea why?”

“Yes!”

“Glad those days are rare for me.”

“That’s because you’re a fucking late bloomer, lucky sod. Your voice still sounds like a girl’s.”

Arthur shoved him. “It does no-OT!”

Merlin cackled. “Your voice cracked! What impeccable timing.”

“Shut up,” Arthur snapped, shoving him again.

“Ugh, stop touching me, you’re making it go up again and I’ve only just got it back down.”

It had been a slip of the tongue. Merlin hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but there it was, hanging in the air between them.

The seconds passed slowly, dragging on until Merlin was afraid to even breathe.

Arthur’s voice was nearly a whisper when he finally spoke, quiet and intimate. “Does that mean you like it when I touch you?”

Merlin swallowed. He didn’t know how Arthur would react. He wasn’t even really sure of anything himself yet. Everything was so confusing.

But he did know he loved Arthur touching him.

Arthur’s hand drifted closer, over the duvet, over Merlin’s stomach and up to his chest. Merlin’s heart jumped up to his throat.

“Does this feel good?” Arthur asked.

Merlin opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. He didn’t think he could, not with Arthur’s hand caressing his chest like it had in all his wet dreams.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Merlin,” Arthur said, raising his eyes to Merlin’s. “I’ve known for a while, and as my best friend I think you should know.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m gay, Merlin.”

“Oh.”

For some reason, that got Merlin even harder. Maybe it was because his overactive imagination made the jump to Arthur straddling him and whispering in his ear “I like cock and I wanna suck yours until you come down my throat.”

That didn’t happen. What Arthur said instead was, “Is it okay if I touch you, Merlin?”

Merlin was nodding before Arthur even finished the question.

Arthur’s hand lowered, past Merlin’s stomach, down his abdomen, into his pants. Merlin gasped at the first touch of cold fingertips, the first touch of _anyone_ else’s fingers down there. It made him whimper and lift his hips before he knew what he was doing.

Arthur was breathing just as hard as Merlin, probably staring just as intently at where his hand disappeared beneath Merlin’s trousers. His fingers curled around Merlin’s dick and Merlin gripped the duvet, choking off a whine.

“Can I—”

“Yeah.”

Merlin brought his hands down to fumble for the button on his jeans, shoving it all to his knees when it was undone. He nearly came just from the sight of Arthur’s hand wrapped around his cock.

“Wow,” Arthur exhaled.

“I thought you said you were gay?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I’ve held someone else’s cock before, Merlin.”

“Oh.” Merlin swallowed again, and tried to keep his voice firm as he said, “Well you can, um, do whatever you want with it. Especially now you’ve gotten it hard again.”

Arthur lips twitched in a slight smile before becoming serious again. Merlin thought he would die when Arthur started to lean forward, flicking his eyes up to Merlin’s to see if it was okay to keep going. His heart was definitely going to burst out of his chest any second now, his fingernails sure to rip through the sheets where his hands were curled desperately.

One kitten lick to the head and Merlin’s thighs convulsed, the tension in his groin making it near impossible to calm his breathing. Another lick further down the shaft, another broad one tonguing all the way up before pouty lips wrapped around the whole thing and—

“Nnnh!”

“Ugh!” Arthur sprang back, wiping his face and chin with the back of his hand. “Some warning would’ve been nice.”

Merlin was still breathless, but managed to say, “W-Watch out for my spunk, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed and sat back against the wall. Merlin noticed the bulge in Arthur’s jeans and had started tentatively reaching out before he realised he was doing it. By the time his hand had closed around the hard shaft through the denim and he let his gaze drift up to Arthur’s face, he’d already made up his mind.

“I can return the favour if you want.”

–----------------------------------------

12.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** Pseudomedievalism

Pain arched through Arthur's body, he would not travel much further today, but the nearest village was still some eight miles distant. He wearily unstrapped his sword, leaning on it like an old man to lower himself onto a flat stone, let his forehead rest gently on the cool pommel and murmured a prayer to St Christopher. 

He must've dozed, because when he was startled by the rattle of a heavy cart, the sky had darkened considerably. The wagon pulled up beside him, first in a convoy. Whispering thanks to the heavens, he accepted a ride, they were players, heading to the Shrovetide festivities, the greybeard driving informed him. They’d carry him not just to the next village but all the way to the shining city-port, from where he could take ship to England. Arthur wept in gratitude as he was helped by strong arms into the lead wagon.

* * *

A terrible heat, and a bone-deep cold. Kind eyes, squinting worriedly. Calloused fingers picking off his clothes.

* * *

Arthur woke to a cool breeze, birdsong and pale light. 

A strange face peered down at him, though whether demonic or angelic he couldn't say, a bare chest, green ink picked out ridges and... Scales?

* * *

When Arthur awoke fully it was evening, orange shadows danced and wild music reeled outside. From the caravan, Arthur could see the revellers, scattered around several fires, while in between them danced two young women, their skirts flew and their hair flickered in the firelight as they juggled shining knives between them, all the time wheeling in perfect synchronicity to the beat of the drum. With a flourish they plunged each blade into the earth in a neat row and joined hands, bowing deeply. Next into the circle was a wiry young man, naked but for a small pouch to cover his modesty, Arthur blushed, but couldn't look away as the man's tattooed skin rippled in the orange glow. He turned a few simple cartwheels before bending himself backwards and scuttling like a crab, his long neck stretched and ribs distended, then, still on his hands, he lifted his legs in the air, holding them straight for a moment and then dropping them over, performing a complete roll and coming up on his feet. Though he’d not appeared to have exerted himself, there was a thin sheen of sweat across his body, and Arthur marvelled at the gleam as he flipped over and over, ever faster, smooth as spider-silk.

"The Serpent." It was the man who had offered him the ride, "One of our most popular attractions. And most precious." He was fixed with a meaningful eyebrow, Arthur knew he was not talking about coin.

The tumbler leapt sinuously into the caravan and grinned widely at Arthur. He smelt of warm earth and joy and woodsmoke, and Arthur felt the creeping shame he had fought for so many years. The aptly named Serpent was caressing his wound and Arthur tried to concentrate on the cleansing pain.

"Is this hell?" He asked.

The man tutted. "You're still feverish, so I'm going to ignore that foolishness."

Not knowing from where his boldness came, Arthur reached out to touch the patterned sinews before him.

"Serpent." He croaked.

The man rolled his eyes and glared behind him, the older man's retreating chuckle signalling they were alone. "Merlin. It started as a joke," he said, holding a waterskin to Arthur’s lips. "Part of my act. Do you know your alchemy? The serpent who swallows his own tail?”

Arthur shook his head, alchemy was second to witchcraft.

Merlin sighed, "It’s… Nevermind. You wouldn't like it. It's for a niche audience."

"I think I’d like anything you did."

Merlin bit his lip. "Maybe you would." 

* * *

It was a disturbing sight, Arthur's bones protested just from watching. Merlin's legs were spread, knees hooked behind elbows, his torso almost folded in half. He snuffled and panted, eyes watering as he suckled on the plump head of his own cock, his balls pulled tight, dusky hole ignored. 

The wound in Arthur’s side throbbed; he pumped his erection, head spinning.

Merlin rocked back, heaving a frantic breath then diving down to suck harder, getting his lips halfway down the shaft and finally spluttering as his thick seed bubbled over and out from between his slackening lips.

He smirked triumphantly, wiped his face and stretched out his long limbs, while Arthur whispered desperate prayers to his new saint, “ _Merlin_.”

–--------------------------  
13.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** rimming

When Arthur turned the sigil’s dial, lines clicking into place, he didn’t expect to join Merlin in the middle of the French revolution. The streets of Paris were in chaos, crowds milling around Arthur as he stood, looking up at a barricade that filled the narrow street. 

Atop it stood Merlin, shouting commands at people nearby. He was fresh-faced, limbs gangly, and the look in his eyes so much the Merlin who’d arrived in Camelot. It drew Arthur closer until he was climbing the barricade with difficulty, his bearings unsteady. 

Merlin didn’t acknowledge him, of course, not until they were face to face and Arthur was looking at him with his heart in his throat and his thoughts tangled. Merlin’s lips pulled into a smile and then he spoke in rapid French, pointing over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Of course Merlin didn’t speak English. Of course Merlin didn’t remember him. But he looked oddly beautiful, even surrounded by chaos and uncertainty. His face was glowing with young idealism, with ideas that Arthur couldn’t find himself in, couldn’t truly associate with Merlin. 

But when Arthur had his hand wrapped around Merlin’s cock in a dark corner of the inn, he was every bit the Merlin Arthur knew. It didn’t matter if the words from his mouth were foreign, every arch of his body was familiar. Arthur breathed wetly into his neck, emotions rolling dangerously in the pit of his stomach. 

He couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t stay, not when Merlin was destined to die before his eyes, not when Merlin didn’t remember him anyway. 

He turned the dial back.

&&

Arthur didn’t know how the sigil actually worked. He’d given it to Merlin once, only to get it in return years later, Merlin smiling cryptically when he told Arthur not to ask questions, especially not stupid ones. Arthur had learned, over the inexplicable amount of years he’d lived, to let the questions go. So whenever the sigil would turn golden, he picked it up with a rush of anticipation.

&&

Merlin stood with his back to Arthur, perfectly tailored trousers highlighting the swell of his arse. His office was lavish, windows from floor to ceiling and a large mahogany desk at the centre. The Merlin who turned around was older, laugh-lines around his eyes, oddly imposing in his suit. The salt and pepper hair was a look Arthur had never seen on any version of Merlin and it went straight to his cock. 

“Mr Pendragon?” His voice was the same, and Arthur ached, pulling himself together to nod. “Scotch?” All Arthur could focus on after that was the sound of Merlin’s voice and the tones of _She Loves You_ from the tinny radio speakers.

Arthur had no idea what contract they were negotiating, but after, he accepted the invitation for drinks and smiled with intent when Merlin’s leg pressed against his under the table. 

When Merlin took him back to his penthouse and fucked him on his enormous bed, Arthur knew him, all of him. He hung his head between his shoulders as he took Merlin’s cock, let it spread him wide and desperate. The hitches of Merlin’s breath were whispers of too many times gone by. 

He allowed himself the night, knowing there was no space for him in this life. 

&&

The sigil didn’t just glow golden this time, it rattled and burned bright hot. It pulled at him, whispered his name, and led him across the park outside his flat. There was music coming from the outdoor stage, a single person with a violin moving slowly across the it, playing to himself. He was so casual, as if his existence wasn’t a miracle. 

Arthur stopped, pressing his hand around the sigil. He hadn’t touched the dial. It hadn’t taken him back or forward, it had barely taken him a few steps from his flat, and yet he’d know that body anywhere in space and time. 

The music died as Merlin’s eyes met his and he lowered the violin. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said, his gaze flickering to the sigil. 

Something in Arthur broke. It cracked down the middle and splintered into pieces. 

&&

“You remember,” Arthur said, lips pressed to the swell of Merlin’s arse. He traced his tongue along the rim, closing his eyes as Merlin moaned into the sheets. 

“Arthur, how the fuck could I forget?”

Arthur’s hands tightened on Merlin’s hips, fucking Merlin desperately with his tongue. That’s what Arthur had asked himself all along.

–------------------------------

14.

 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** none apply

 

They say he's the Lord of Life and Death, that he's Emrys, Death himself.

To Arthur he's _Merlin _—smooth skin flushed pink with desire when their bodies rub against each other, blue eyes full of trust. His laugh is earnest and sweet as they fool around, throwing slices of red apples into the air to catch them with their mouths. His naked feet are ticklish when Arthur drags his finger under their soles before they dive into the water to cool off after the midday heat.__

__*_ _

__The first birds spread their wings and fly away with a screechy wail, leaving behind branches with their leaves turning brown. Arthur watches the leaves fall one by one to the ground, wrinkling the forest floor, and he knows the time has come again._ _

__He tugs Merlin into bed. The fire burns hot and bright in the hearth. He slips under the heavy furs next to Merlin and runs his hands over Merlin's naked skin. Sweat beads up under his touch, and for a moment it seems like it's enough._ _

__*_ _

__“Let me warm you, love.”_ _

__Arthur breathes on his palms, places them over Merlin's clasped hands and rubs hard and fast, then he gathers Merlin in his arms and kisses his mouth deeply, desperately._ _

__He knows it's pointless. Merlin's skin is clammy and cold, pale like the moon. His eyes are distant, all the warm golden glow gone, leaving only frosty blue._ _

__*_ _

__He'll return with the first sunrays of spring, with his clothes torn and body thin, skin paper-white and covered in bruises and cuts. He'll cling to Arthur; his broken, dirty fingernails will dig into Arthur's flesh. He'll meow like a kitten when Arthur feeds him greasy morsels of seasoned meat and makes him drink sweet, heated mead. He’ll purr with pleasure when Arthur drags him to the bed, peeling dirty clothes away piece by piece and running a warm washcloth over his skin, cleaning him and then stretching him bit by bit with oiled fingers._ _

__Then they will climb on each other, all clumsy and needy, hands desperate and mouths too eager, until Arthur will throw Merlin off with a groan, lay him on his back, and hold him by his throat to make him stop writhing. Arthur will thrust hard into Merlin’s body, filling him up to the brim with his hot seed. Only then will Merlin sigh and unravel, smiling broadly, stretching in the rays of the sun. Only then will he close his gold-rimmed eyes and sleep, sleep, sleep._ _

__Days and nights will pass, but finally Arthur will wake up to Merlin walking through gardens and meadows, flowers blooming with his every step, the plants and bees greeting him, and everything coming to life under his gentle fingers._ _

__Arthur's learned to cherish that time, for it's never long enough. He's learned to treasure the nights full of humid, hot air and Merlin's lips parted in a silent gasp, his hands grabbing Arthur's hair hard, his teeth leaving deep marks in Arthur's flesh, and his cock always hard for Arthur, swollen fat and dripping. Arthur licks it all and swallows, pumps it till it's dry, till only the bitter taste left in Arthur's mouth tells the story of what they’ve done together._ _

__

__*_ _

__He never knows when and how Merlin descends Underground. He’s tried to stay awake, to see if Merlin digs his way through the hard soil to the core of the Earth or if he just dissolves into thin air._ _

__But, as usual, Arthur wakes up one morning to an empty bed and thick snowy clouds hanging above the castle._ _

__He grabs his fox fur coat, wrapping it over his shoulders, and he throws another log onto the fire. Outside, the frost is already painting the widows in spiral flowers._ _

__Arthur starts counting the nights yet to come before Merlin's light will overcome the darkness once again, and Merlin's moans of pleasure and hushed words will replace the suffocating silence of the snowed-in castle’s walls._ _

__*_ _

__They say once the High King is gone, the grief of Emrys will be so vast the old Earth will perish. Furious fire will swallow meadows and forests until there's nothing but white ash. And then the everlasting Winter will come; ice will cover the ground, and amidst the sea of white the only thing that will last will be the skinny boy with a frozen heart and skin as pale as the moon._ _

__–--------------------------_ _

__15._ _

__**Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** Canonical character death_ _

__The earth lays low and soft, a quiet breath held deep within the soil, as magic coils tight within her roots._ _

__Waiting._ _

__\---_ _

__Uther Pendragon's reign begins simply enough, Camelot caught in the wispy doldrums of the end of autumn. The magic wanes where it once flowed in a tireless current, few left to wield it with any skill._ _

__And then there is Ygraine and blood sacrifice and the frost sets in completely, as if this final burst has used up the last of the earth herself._ _

__But the earth smiles when her other golden child is born as she goes to sleep._ _

__She has given all of herself to them, to the glimmering hope of their future that will live long in the minds of men._ _

__\---_ _

__The land bears Uther fruit meekly, begrudgingly, the fields withering without the spark to sing through their veins._ _

__It's been many years since any protection has been incanted over them. And still Uther persists._ _

__\---_ _

__Prince Arthur grows strong and sturdy. But there is a childish arrogance and temper in him that flares to life when he is finally confronted with his fate:_ _

__Merlin._ _

__\---_ _

__"You can't speak to me like that," he says in bemusement, eyes raking over the long lines of the man in front of him._ _

__But she can feel the way his blood pulses as they begin to whip their flails at each other in earnest, and it has less to do with the ferocity of the fight than it does the way Merlin's eyes flash and smirk, unafraid and disarming._ _

__\---_ _

__With the first stirrings of renewal the earth grins._ _

__\---_ _

__The Druids call him Emrys, hanging all their belief around his neck, but the earth knows his heart, and in his heart he is Merlin, always Merlin, Arthur's Merlin, with all the love the land needs in his boyish smile and kind blue eyes and uncompromising voice that rings through the air, calling to them all._ _

__\---_ _

__"Sometimes I don't know what to think of my father's ban on magic," Arthur whispers deep in the night to Merlin, now his manservant, the one who will follow him anywhere, everywhere._ _

__The unicorn, the blue orbs of light, all the death and destruction and hatred that have been a part of the fabric of his childhood, they haunt him in the canopy of his dreams._ _

__"You'll know, I promise. You will be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen someday," Merlin says and lays a hand upon his shoulder._ _

___I have faith in you_ , goes unsaid, but Arthur still hears it and curls into the touch, content._ _

__\---_ _

__One day, the earth worries, Merlin really will kill the dragon before they've even had a chance to truly work together._ _

__"What do you mean, true love's kiss?!?"_ _

__\---_ _

__Merlin, once he's screamed in frustration and thrown himself at Arthur in a last-ditch effort (and, probably, the last chance he will ever have get to know Arthur's mouth, he thinks), is even more shocked than Arthur is when he finally regains coherence._ _

__The mortified blush on both their cheeks doesn't stop Arthur from fitting his large, calloused hands to Merlin's waist, spanning the whole of him, as he noses along the sensitive skin of Merlin's neck._ _

__\---_ _

__Later, when Arthur tumbles him to the ground, wrapping him in his love, his need, Merlin throws his head back and gasps, come and dirt and magic smearing across them, blending into one, singing the most beautiful song for all the land to hear._ _

__As Arthur slides into him, huge and thick and _alive_ , Merlin comes into the earth and she welcomes their offering with open arms, laughter vibrant in her as she soothes and hums, threading them together in golden tendrils._ _

__\---_ _

__But, as the land begins to quicken once again, magic stretching out happily, giddily, the earth mourns the fear in her daughter's cold, cold heart. Winter's eternal offspring, who took her first breath while the earth could only dream._ _

__And as the years pass and Arthur's reign flourishes under the watchful eye of his love, she knows there is only one way it can end._ _

__\---_ _

__Merlin's tears scald her soul as the boat blazes, falling out of sight._ _

__They will all have to rest until the Once and Future King can rise again, bring the magic back to the land._ _

__\---_ _

__The earth waits, preparing for her longest winter, and no matter how many summers pass, she will not waken for a long, long time._ _

__She falls into slumber weeping softly for her lost, lonely child._ _

__–-----------------------------_ _

__16._ _

__**Pairing:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None_ _

__“Good morning, Mordred,” Arthur’s voice booms through his office._ _

__“Ow. Volume,” Mordred mumbles and reaches for his control pad, only to find the screen lacking its usual settings menu and displaying a single image of fingers curled into a crude gesture instead. He huffs, unimpressed. “I take it Merlin’s pissed off again.”_ _

__“He might have said some things… that weren’t very nice about you last night,” Arthur replies and Mordred winces as the disembodied voice pierces through his skull._ _

__He waves at Arthur when he walks into his usual display. Merlin’s is still dark and Mordred doubts he’ll be able to make it come to life if Merlin wants to hide from him._ _

__“What did I do this time?” Mordred asks, then raises his hand to stop Arthur from replying. “Whisper, please.”_ _

__Arthur walks forward, his figure enlarging and filling the screen until all Mordred can see is his mouth and nostrils. It’s completely unnecessary and Arthur knows it, but Mordred snorts with amusement nonetheless._ _

__“I’m not sure,” Arthur whispers. “He didn’t want to talk to me, either.”_ _

__“Well, can’t you drag him out already? I don’t know why he—”_ _

__“Oh, you fucking know why,” Merlin shouts and Mordred groans, putting his hands over his ears. He glares at Merlin’s display as it lights up and he’s met with Merlin staring at him, his arms crossed._ _

__“Do you mind?” Mordred asks and points at his ear. Merlin huffs and the pad in Mordred’s hand clears up, then shows the volume setting drop down to a bearable level. “Thank you,” Mordred says and slides a hand over the screen, but it gives no reaction. Merlin’s still not giving him access to his own interface. “What?” Mordred looks up at Merlin, irritated._ _

__Merlin points at the pad and Mordred sees the words _I know about Morgana_ written across the screen. He feels his shoulders slump as he looks back at Merlin. _ _

__He only found her last week. How can Merlin know about it already?_ _

__“Don’t lie to us,” Merlin says, his voice cracking._ _

__Mordred feels an odd kind of hollowness in his chest. “I had to,” he says and glances at Arthur for a second. Merlin clenches his jaw._ _

__“What’s going on?” Arthur asks. No one answers him._ _

__“We can still do it,” Mordred promises._ _

__They can figure out a way to translate the ones and zeroes Arthur and Merlin are made of right now into something palpable, they can bind their souls to bodies made of flesh and bones, not code. It doesn’t matter that Morgana won’t help them. It doesn’t matter that they’ve gone through this over and over again - seeked help from sorcerers known and foreign only to be rejected out of fear for the ways of old they could bring back to life if they had the means._ _

__They’re wrong, these sorcerers; they don’t know Arthur like Mordred does, nor understand why Mordred’s sworn allegiance to him, especially now that the supposed Once and Future King is trapped in a machine, powerless. Mordred doesn’t care. He’ll repeat the steps - search, contact, beg, fail, repeat - again and again, until the king and his sorcerer can walk the earth and breathe its air and feel sunlight burn their skin once again._ _

__Merlin lets out a defeated sigh and walks to the left; he disappears, then shows up again on Arthur’s display. He finds home in Arthur’s arms and Arthur embraces him readily, throwing a confused glance at Mordred’s direction._ _

__He doesn’t have time to say anything, the questions lingering on his tongue getting muffled by Merlin’s lips on his. Mordred thinks that’s as far as they’ll go - share a quick, comforting kiss before they all get to work, but he’s so wrong. Merlin lets out a little moan and pulls at Arthur’s shirt; Arthur doesn’t protest, tangles his fingers in Merlin’s hair instead._ _

__“Oh, come on, I just woke up,” Mordred groans. Merlin waves him off without even looking at him and Mordred sighs. He dims the displays to give them privacy and walks out of his office, knowing they’ll be going at it for quite a while._ _

__He spends the better part of his day with his head buried beneath a pillow, praying Merlin will finally take mercy on him and turn the sounds of their moans down, even just a little bit._ _

__–-------------------------_ _

__17._ _

__**Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** None_ _

__When the first snow kisses the ground, Merlin thinks the winter season must be the one that hurts the most. Even in this modern century of heating technology, he can never get warm. Not when he remembers the roaring fireplace of Arthur’s chambers, the solacing heat of the prince’s body as they sprawled together, so close Merlin could see the gleam from the flames dancing in the curve of Arthur’s sweat-glistened back. As if it had been only days rather than centuries, Merlin remembers the shivering tingle of warmth Arthur’s fingers would leave as they mapped their way across his skin. He remembers cradling his body to Arthur’s, the sweat-sticky fit of his inner thighs to Arthur’s skin as Arthur’s hips rolled sweet, hot pleasure into him, making Merlin shudder from the deepest reaches of his own body. He remembers the heat of Arthur’s gaze, locked on him from above with so much intensity. How it banished all thought of the cold outside the castle walls._ _

__The warmer season is no better. Merlin can think only of the taste of wild berries and spring on Arthur’s lips. Long, lazy afternoons when they had been supposed to go on a hunt or on some task for Uther, but they would grow distracted by long kisses under the newly-flowering trees of the forest. He remembers the crisp spring air always being conducive to fast, desperate fucks. Riding Arthur frantically and feeling his strong, taut thighs beneath his own and strong hands gripping and guiding his waist – or spread out across the bed with Arthur using every bit of his physical prowess to fuck Merlin raw, until Merlin was stifling cries into the messy press of Arthur’s mouth_ _

__The sparkling sunshine of summer has been forever spoiled for Merlin. He can only see the way it used to shimmer in Arthur’s hair. Later, as the days grow hot and muggy, Merlin remembers the salty drag of Arthur’s flushed skin against his own. He remembers the kind of lethargic, torturously slow lovemaking that left him whimpering and sure that Arthur was so deeply entangled with him, they would be one forever. The spectral memory of whispered words of love leaves Merlin impervious to the summer warmth. Even the hottest days are nothing compared to the warmth of what it was like being Arthur’s._ _

__The autumn is different, and hurts in entirely new ways as the leaves fall in varying shades of Pendragon red. He sees in them Arthur’s eyes of vulnerability, his helpless habit of questioning his own decisions, his inability to believe in his own probity. In the autumn winds pregnant with the year’s first chill, Merlin shivers from the memory of Arthur’s seeking questions._ _

__“Tell me what I should do.” … “What would you do, Merlin, if you were me?” … “I’ve made a terrible mistake, haven’t I?”_ _

__Coats could never keep Merlin from trembling. Hundreds of years of life, of knowledge, and they still fail him the words Merlin should have said in those late nights when everyone in the kingdom except the two of them had gone to sleep, when there was nothing in the world Merlin wanted more than to make the anguished man lying beside him see himself the same way Merlin saw him. Merlin wonders whether it would have made a difference, at the end._ _

__The coldest days of December always bring his answer. The world is still frozen, helpless without its Once and Future King, and Merlin will endure another yearly cycle, immutable and unfeeling through time, another year gone in nothing but a prick against the skin._ _

__

__–-----------------_ _

__18._ _

__**Pairings:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** "jealousy"_ _

__

__What an afternoon: the sun burning on his bare forearms, the headwind’s pressure against his chest, the landscape a blur. Fierce and beautiful, his bike, and Arthur didn’t regret the afternoon he spent chasing adrenaline riding her._ _

__Now to get changed. He still had an hour--_ _

__“Caught you. _In flagrante delicto_.”_ _

__Arthur whipped around. Merlin was leaning against the shed’s door frame, arms crossed, looking _knowing_. Arthur jerked his hand away from his bike’s frame, resisted the urge to glance down at himself. Biker boots; leather trousers; a white, sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his stomach and chest._ _

__“Not what it looks like,” he blurted, and Merlin said, “ _So_ what it looks like,” and, bugger, his escape route was gone. Merlin was advancing._ _

__He stopped before Arthur, scrutinising him. Sticking his hands into his pockets, Arthur refused to look away like a guilty schoolboy. “Dislocated shoulder, cervical collar,” Merlin said, touching Arthur’s shoulder and throat. “Almost a jaw fracture.”_ _

__There’d always be tossers on the road. Arthur shrugged. “Almost.”_ _

__The heel of Merlin’s palm pressed into the soft flesh of the underside of Arthur’s jaw, insistent. “If she breaks this, I break her.”_ _

__Arthur scowled. “It’s not her fault--”_ _

__“No; it’s yours. For being so obsessed with her.”_ _

__“What--”_ _

__“We had a deal, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was lower now. “But of course you couldn’t wait to get on her again, could you? You’ve been itching to, restless with it.”_ _

__Arthur flushed. “I don’t--”_ _

__Merlin gripped Arthur’s chin. “Don’t deny it,” he said. “Got your arse on her seat the second I left this morning, didn’t you?”_ _

__Arthur clenched his jaw. Merlin, feeling the movement with his fingers, licked his lips. “Caught you. _In flagrante delicto_ ,” he murmured. “This”--Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur’s jaw--“is mine. No one else is allowed to break it.”_ _

__“Stop being ridiculous--”_ _

__“ _Jaw fracture_. If she breaks you, _I break her_.”_ _

__“You wouldn’t dare!” Arthur snapped. “She’s mine--”_ _

__Merlin went still. He watched Arthur for a long moment, then let him go. Arthur, off-kilter, swallowed. Merlin’s eyes, suddenly dark, rooted him to the spot. He couldn’t look away._ _

__“Oh, is she?” Merlin asked silkily. “Well, if she is…”_ _

__He took a step closer. Arthur took one back._ _

__“...then she’s mine, too.”_ _

__Merlin, another step forward; Arthur, another step back. It made him bump against his bike. She swayed in her stand. “Merlin, you--”_ _

__The bike wobbled dangerously, and Arthur had to turn and put his hands against the wall to save her from crashing. Suddenly Merlin was a bold wall of body heat at Arthur’s back. “If she’s yours, she’s mine too,” he muttered. “Because _you_ are _mine_.”_ _

__The anger was gone in a flash, because--that was Merlin’s cock against his arse, right there. God. Images of this morning assaulted Arthur’s mind. He, bent over the kitchen counter, taking Merlin’s frantic pounding--_ _

__A pitiful groan escaped him. “Merlin--”_ _

__“ _Mine_ ,” Merlin hissed. The heavy _clink_ of Arthur’s belt was loud, the _snick_ of Arthur’s zipper a promise. Merlin’s fingers were a cold shock under Arthur’s trousers. In seconds he’d pulled them down, exposing Arthur’s arse and crotch. _ _

__“Fuck,” Arthur gasped. His cock, already hard, was obscenely pale against the black leather seat of his bike, and Merlin’s denim-covered crotch was thick against his arse._ _

__Merlin just spread Arthur’s cheeks with a hand, pressed himself forward so his bulge kept them apart, and fisted Arthur’s cock. “If she’s your slut,” he growled, “she’s mine too, so I can do with her whatever I want.”_ _

__“Merlin,” Arthur protested weakly. His cock slid in the ring of Merlin’s hand, faster, the head of it sliding over the leather seat with every hipstutter, leaving a translucent gleam of white on the black. The delight of it burned sharply in Arthur’s guts._ _

__“You’re going to come on her,” Merlin said, squeezing Arthur’s cock hard before palming his balls. He shoved his hips forward, shoved Arthur into his bike. Staking claim. “I’m telling you to--”_ _

__Arms shaking, Arthur’s head hung between his shoulders. Teeth grit, he watched himself do it, his cock pulsing and shooting strings of white onto the leather. His arse clenched around Merlin’s bulge, and Merlin gave his own shuddering moan against Arthur’s neck, slumping forward._ _

__There was a wet patch against his arse now, but Arthur didn’t mind much. His arms, though, trembled from the heavy load at his back, straining. “Fuck,” he complained._ _

__Merlin groggily whispered, “Indeed,” and Arthur, half-laughing, half-groaning, agreed._ _

__–---------------_ _

__19._ _

__**Pairings:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** mentions of past noncon (Merlin/other), mention of suicidal thoughts_ _

__He stops when he hears rustling coming from somewhere to his left and waits. It wouldn’t be the first time for a deer to cross his path. A sound of quiet sobbing is not what he expected._ _

__“Is anyone there?”_ _

__The sobbing stops._ _

__He doesn’t have to look around for long before he finds a man hunched close to a tree trunk._ _

__“Are you hurt?” Arthur asks._ _

__A pair of blue eyes land on him, full of terror. The man’s skin is unhealthy pale, his face streaked with tears. He’s shaking all over, his clothes are dirty and torn in some places. A small gust of wind brings a waft of scent towards Arthur. An omega. He smells like the last day of heat._ _

__Arthur moves closer. The man scrambles to his feet, stumbling on the uneven ground._ _

__“Please, don’t,” the omega pleads._ _

__“I won’t hurt you.”_ _

__He takes a few more steps towards the man who immediately takes off. He’s frantic in his need to escape, but his body is betraying him. He’s too slow, too weak. Catching him is easy._ _

__“I swear I’m not going to hurt you,” Arthur says._ _

__“Please, please, please. I’ll make it good for you, just...” the man begs._ _

__Arthur follows his instincts and turns the scared omega around, pulling him to his chest and pressing his face to the crook of his neck, hoping that his scent will calm him as it’s very different from alphas’ mating pheromones. He breathes a sigh of relief when the man melts into his embrace and starts crying._ _

__xXx_ _

__“What’s your name?”_ _

__No reaction._ _

__“I’m Arthur.”_ _

__“Merlin,” the man says, not pulling an inch from Arthur’s body._ _

__“Good, Merlin, fine. How about we take you to hospital now?”_ _

__Merlin tenses._ _

__“Not the hospital. They’d ask... I can’t.”_ _

__“Okay,” Arthur soothes him, petting his hair._ _

__“Let me take you to mine.”_ _

__“I shouldn’t...”_ _

__“Let me take care of you,” Arthur says, overwhelmed by the strong need to protect._ _

__“Why do you even care? I’m worthless, dirty, used,” Merlin spits out, trying to pull away from Arthur. “Four of them had me, day after day. They made me beg for it, like it.”_ _

__Arthur tightens his hold on Merlin, gritting his teeth as rage swells inside him. He wants to maim the scum who took advantage of a defenceless omega in heat._ _

__xXx_ _

__“Do you think you’ll be able to walk?”_ _

__Merlin nods tiredly and Arthur knows he’s going to carry him anyway._ _

__xXx_ _

__Two hours and forty five minutes. That’s how long it takes for Arthur to realize he found his mate._ _

__xXx_ _

__He can’t go on like this. Five hours of tossing and turning, digging his fingers into a mattress to stop himself from going after Merlin. He needs to check if he’s alright. See for himself that he’s resting peacefully._ _

__He doesn’t expect to find Merlin sleeping right in front of his door._ _

__xXx_ _

__“Why aren’t you in bed?” Arthur asks, checking Merlin’s forehead for fever._ _

__“I feel safer closer to you.”_ _

__xXx_ _

__Even though they share the same bed every night, wrapped around each other, they take things slow._ _

__They deal with nightmares and sudden mood swings. Sometimes tremors set in and Arthur holds Merlin close while his mind struggles with painful memories._ _

__Sometimes Merlin talks to Arthur about various means to an end, doesn’t protest when Arthur doesn’t let him out of his sight for days afterwards._ _

__xXx_ _

__Merlin’s heat arrives two months late._ _

__xXx_ _

__Gently, Arthur touches Merlin’s body. He trails his lips down Merlin’s chest, soothing the almost pained moans with a kiss as Merlin comes untouched._ _

__Eyes glazed with need, Merlin whispers ”please” and “need you”, stilling and barely breathing when Arthur pushes in for the first time._ _

__xXx_ _

__His body sated, the first wave of heat over, all the stress, pent-up emotions and fears spill out, flowing away with tears and loud sobs. Merlin recounts the details of his rape, each word pushing him closer to freedom._ _

__xXx_ _

__The second wave of heat drags Merlin out of his slumber. He moans Arthur’s name, offering his neck for claiming._ _

__xXx_ _

__Freshly forged mating bond thrumming through their veins, Arthur gathers the last bits of his energy to provide his beloved with aftercare._ _

__xXx_ _

__The pain of the past will never be forgotten, but it will fade in the light of thousands of future memories._ _

__–-------------------------_ _

__20._ _

__**Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur, one-sided Merlin/Mordred  
 **Warnings:** Voyeurism _ _

__It wasn’t the longing that killed him, it was the watching. For months he was forced to watch them together. At first, he’d still had hope. At first, he hadn’t known they were anything more than master and servant. At first, he’d thought all he had to do was prove himself worthy, show that he was loyal and trustworthy. He would overcome _his_ mistrust by proving that it was an unfounded emotion. He _could_ be relied on, he wanted the same things, would fight for them. Once _he_ knew that, then surely Mordred could move forward, show _him_ that he was worthy of _his_ love. Then Emrys would fall as deeply in love with Mordred as Mordred had always been with him._ _

__After a few weeks though, he finally began to notice that the King, that _Arthur_ didn’t treat Emrys as a master should, didn’t treat him as a mere servant. Well, of course, Mordred had noticed that right from the start but he’d thought what they had was a unique friendship, a bond of solidarity, of brotherhood. He’d been such a naive fool. _ _

__It had taken running across them in a passionate clinch in the armoury for it to actually sink into Mordred’s hopeful little heart that the two were far more than friends, that _brotherhood_ had nothing to do with the fierce protectiveness they displayed for each other. The married King was _fucking his manservant._ Fucking him right out in the open where anyone who wandered past could easily catch him at it, where Mordred _had_ caught them at it._ _

__He’d been unable to look away. Emrys-Merlin was glorious. He was spread out on one of the tables, the armour littering the floor a mute testament to the fact that one or the other of them had simply swept the surface clear of obstacles before making swift use of it. Stripped utterly bare, his pale, luminous skin was gleaming in the torchlight, slick with sweat and flushed with heat in the most delicious way. His long, slender legs were spread wide in obscene abandon, though the obscenity came not from Merlin’s pose but from the advantage the _King_ was taking of it._ _

__Arthur was leaning between those lithe, elegant limbs, his fingers buried deep inside Emrys’s body, his lips caressing the achingly beautiful cock that rose long and smooth from the nest of inky curls that lay between those wide-spread thighs. Emrys’s back arched off the table, ecstatic moans escaping from the arched length of his pretty throat._ _

__Aching heart in his throat, Mordred watched as Emrys convulsed, Arthur’s name on his lips. He watched as the king lapped up Emyrs’ offering and the first seeds of hate were sown in Mordred’s heart. Those seeds were fed and watered as Mordred began to track them both with his magic. As he spied on them again and again, watching as the king betrayed his queen’s devotion, as Emrys betrayed his own innocent love._ _

__Love rejected turns to hate never-ending and betrayal begets betrayal. When Mordred sinks his dragon-forged blade into Arthur’s chest in the canyon of Camlann, he is not just killing the king, he is ending the cycle. When he falls to the earth beside Arthur, blade deep in his guts, he smiles knowing that this sharp, fleeting pain will end the agonizing beat of his long-wounded heart._ _


	2. Group B (with warnings)

21.

**Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** None

Merlin leaned his head back against Arthur’s shoulder and let the hot water wash away the pain and stress of the day. 

When they were in the market for a house, one of the “must-haves” had been a double shower, so they would have plenty of room for sharing their ablutions, as well as any sexual shenanigans that might come up. 

So to speak. 

When Merlin got home from work that night, Arthur had looked up from his book and immediately crossed the room to fold him in his arms. Merlin was still in his hospital scrubs, and he had looked beyond exhausted. 

“Did you lose one today?” 

“No,” Merlin answered. “But we had a very close call, and three new admissions, and we were short-staffed. I swore at an insurance representative, and I didn’t get a chance to sit down once all day.” 

“I’ll start a shower, you look cold,” Arthur had had said softly, rubbing his hands along Merlin’s arms. “You get out of those clothes. And after the shower I’ll heat up some dinner for you.” 

He grabbed a couple of towels from the linen closet and turned the faucets on. 

When he got back to their bedroom, Merlin was sitting on the bed with his eyes closed, and had made no effort to get undressed. 

When he saw Arthur he said wearily, “Every day it’s the same old shit. Pressure from the administration to do more with less, pressure from the insurance companies who care more about saving money than about saving a child. Lather, rinse, repeat.” 

Arthur knelt down and unlaced Merlin’s shoes, murmuring, “It’ll be okay. It’s just the end of a long day.” 

He knew how much Merlin loved his work as a pediatric oncology nurse, and he knew how good he was at it. But he also knew how much it took out of his husband to be battling the system all day. 

Fortunately, he also knew what Merlin needed. 

Arthur made short work of getting Merlin undressed, then shucked off his own clothes and got in the shower with him. He took a washcloth and squeezed some shower gel on it, and started washing the man he loved. 

First he cupped the back of Merlin’s head with one hand and gently rubbed the cloth across his face with the other, dipping it under the spray again to rinse. Then he soaped it up again and cleaned Merlin’s back and arms, ordering him to raise his arms so he could scrub his armpits. Then he carefully washed his chest and bent over to do his legs. 

Merlin stood passively through Arthur’s ministrations, his dick soft in its nest of curly dark hair. But Arthur was saving the best parts for last. 

He put the cloth aside and tipped the bottle of shower gel over into his hands, rubbing them together. 

He ran his soapy hands over Merlin’s ass cheeks, dipping into the crevice and rubbing two fingers flat across Merlin’s sensitive hole. He wasn’t trying to get in, but he knew Merlin liked being touched there. 

He could see Merlin’s dick perking up at this, and he took it into his hand, scrubbing at it gently and rubbing his thumb lightly around the head and over the slit. 

Merlin surged toward him, seeking more skin contact, but Arthur chided, “Not yet. We have to get you all clean first.” 

He rolled Merlin’s balls in one hand, laving them with the other slick hand. 

Merlin was hard by then, but Arthur stopped touching his body. Instead, he reached for the shampoo, and worked a good-sized dollop into the other man’s thick hair. 

Merlin loved having his hair washed, and had once admitted that sometimes just the spicy-herbal scent of the shampoo made him hard, remembering all the times Arthur had ministered to him. 

He groaned as Arthur used all ten fingers to deeply massage his scalp. Arthur always said that Merlin had the world’s best hair, and he loved working his hands through it. 

“Um, dying down here,” Merlin said, reaching for his cock. Arthur pushed his hand away, saying, “Not done yet.” 

So Merlin waited while Arthur rinsed, then put more shampoo in, and finally rinsed it out. Arthur took Merlin in hand then, and jerked him off one-handed, keeping the other hand tangled in Merlin’s hair. 

Merlin slumped in Arthur’s arms, whispering, “You always take such good care of me. I love you.” 

Merlin loves Arthur. Arthur loves Merlin. 

_Lather, rinse, repeat._

–----------------

22.

**Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** No A03 warnings; power exchange; power imbalance (student/teacher) dynamic; abuse of science

One tiny, infinitesimal slip of the tongue and Merlin finds himself summoned to evening office hours. Never mind that it was down to end-of-term stress and lack of sleep, that said lack of sleep was entirely a certain someone's fault.

"Professor," Merlin murmurs, closing the door.

"Ah, Mister Emrys, very good." Arthur looks up from his laptop, rubs his temple with a thick forefinger. "I trust you came prepared?"

Merlin nods. His palms feel damp, his throat dry. There's something about seeing Arthur like this, still buttoned up against his day…

"Have a seat." Arthur indicates the leather armchair wedged between the bookshelves and a window.

Merlin sits, stands, thinks _to hell with it, why waste time,_ and strips down to his pants. 

Arthur doesn’t blink. He closes his laptop, retrieves something from a desk drawer, and settles back into his chair. It's a nail file. 

Merlin shivers, arse muscles clenching around slick nothing.

" _Sit,_ " Arthur insists.

Merlin does. He feels the very definition of a hot mess, arse leaking lube, cock straining against his briefs, pale belly and thighs glaring against the nut-brown leather.

"You know why you're here?" Arthur lifts a brow, file poised above his left forefinger.

Merlin opens his mouth, thinks the better of it, then nods. The fleeting quirk of Arthur's lips tells him he's chosen wisely.

Arthur begins smoothing his nail in firm, even strokes. "As compelling a fictional distraction as Mister Milkovich may be for needy cocksuckers the world over, he has no place in my classroom, understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Whereas _Milankovitch_ was a man who used his mind, used _maths,_ to theorize the astronomical origins of historical climate change." 

Arthur pauses in his filing, admiring his handiwork before lifting his eyes to meet Merlin's. "Not that any of the little shits you tutor give a toss, but Milankovitch Cycles are on the exam, so…"

Merlin licks his lips. "So, perhaps you should – "

"Refresh your memory? Gladly." The nail file clatters on the desk. Arthur's up and looming over Merlin in three strides, undoing belt buckle, button, fly – freeing his pudgy cock – and fuck if Merlin's dick doesn't get wet at how he can do that without glancing down even _once._

"Up on your knees." Arthur says, fondling himself, tugging until he's got a fat, hard handful. "Turn around."

Merlin scrambles to obey. His pants are immediately yanked aside, exposing his hole, trapping everything else in a throbbing bundle against one leg.

"Eccentricity," Arthur says, slipping a finger – _that_ finger – inside. The ring feels cool and dense as the tip moves in a smooth, shallow circle. "Refers to the shape of a planet's orbit around the sun, whether it be circular or…"

Merlin sucks in a breath, arches his back as Arthur switches to a probing, elliptical in-and-out motion, grazing his prostate on each pass. 

"Got that, Emrys?"

"Mmm, yes, but – "

"Good. Now obliquity, or tilt – " Arthur stiffens his finger, stills it, the pad just resting on the sensitized flesh. " – refers to the angle of Earth's axis relative to its plane of orbit."

Merlin swears a blue streak as Arthur presses down, levering his hand this way, then that, knuckles pulling at the rim of Merlin's hole. 

Arthur chuckles. "Ah, I see you remember that one."

"Big fan of the tilt," Merlin mumbles, dropping his head onto his forearms.

"And finally..."

Arthur's finger disappears. Merlin clenches, mourning the loss; then he feels a clothed, solid weight draped along his bare back, hot breath on his neck.

"Precession. If I may?"

Merlin grunts. There's a nudge, a flare of intense pressure, then his arse is eating cock in slick inches, gobbling it up until he's stuffed full, can feel the scrape of Arthur's zip on his bared arsecheek.

"Precession's all about the Earth's wobble." Arthur grabs Merlin's hip and jiggles him, his own hips maddeningly still. "Like a spinning top that's winding down. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Merlin whispers.

"Show me." 

Merlin moans, swiveling his hips as he grinds in circles back on that glorious cock – frenetic at first, chasing the precision high of being fingered; then more slowly, relishing the fullness, the comforting cage of Arthur's body. 

" _Yes,_ sir," he pants. "Oh, sir, yessiryespleaseand… _ngh._ "

Coming's almost a surprise, a sweet, sharp shuddering into the twisted wreck of his pants. He fancies he sees stars.

Arthur pulls out and Merlin swallows the joke down, tucking it away for later, for home. He focuses on Arthur's wrecked breathing, the violent flurry of fist and cock, the warm spunk striping the backs of his thighs.

–-------------------------------------

23.

**Pairings** Gwen/Merlin; Arthur/Merlin; Arthur/Merlin/Gwen  
 **Warnings** -

Based on the cycle of the year as depicted by the [Labours of the Months in Medieval art](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labours_of_the_Months)

 

_February: Sitting by the fire_

"Come stay at mine tonight," Gwen says, tucking Merlin in against her side. 

He smiles, nods, and smiles again when she brushes the snowflakes from his fringe. By the time they reach the village, snow covers the castle, muffles their voices and footsteps, and lights the evening world with an eerie brightness.

Gwen tugs Merlin along to hurry him through the hush to her small house; she cups her hands over his pink ears as soon as they get inside. 

"You look cold." 

"You don't," Merlin murmurs, "you look so warm." He slides his arms under her cloak to hold Gwen close, then sinks into the kiss she gives him. 

And sinks onto the bed when she tugs him there, too. Gwen kisses Merlin again and again, harder each time until he sighs against her neck. His fingers reach to unlace her bodice, and Gwen shrugs off her cloak. 

Despite the banked fire, the house is chilly, and they undress slowly to keep their warmth close. Merlin kisses Gwen's neck and her breasts until she's wet between her thighs. She teases him, too, making him shiver with gentle touches to his stomach, making him tremble until they're both hot with need.

"I thought my first winter in Camelot would be so cold," Merlin says later, his head tucked against Gwen's chest. 

Gwen presses her face into Merlin's hair. "And I thought I'd be alone in this house." 

 

_May: Hawking; Courtly Love_

"Surely, hawking doesn't require this much finery and... poetry?"

Arthur frowns into the mirror. "I thought you liked poetry?"

"I do..." Merlin's voice trails off and when Arthur flicks his glance up to look at Merlin's reflection, he's still poring over the manuscript on Arthur's desk. 

Arthur watches Merlin for a few more moments: watches his long, slim fingers trace the images, watches his lips move as he reads the words, watches how he tenses his shoulders as he leans closer.

His gaze flicks back to his own reflection. He looks tired; he wishes Morgana were here to join the hawking party, to receive his favors with a sharp retort, to rest her hand above his racing heart and brush her lips against his bare skin.

"That's not actually a book of poetry, Merlin."

Merlin makes a sound of assent, but Arthur knows what picture he's pondering: the languishing lover and his lady. He is nothing like Morgana, not at all, yet there is something about the way Merlin looks at Arthur, the way he touches Arthur, that makes Arthur's heart leap in his chest once more. 

When he looks up again, Merlin is standing behind him. Their eyes meet in the reflection; Arthur drops his gaze just before Merlin's lips brush his ear. When he turns to kiss Merlin, his chest swells with both relief and desire.

He's longed for this, but has never known how to ask for it. 

 

_September: Grape Harvest_

When the harvest festivals begin, Arthur walks down to the lower town with Merlin and Gwen. His father would never have done this, but Arthur doesn't think twice about accepting the invitation. 

Merlin loves him for all this--for the smile on his face as Gwen place the first of the late summer fruits into his hand, for the way he hands out well-wishes to the people twice as often as he receives them, for the way he grasps Merlin's hand in his own for a brief moment before handing Merlin a cup of wine.

He loves Arthur, too, for the way he grasps Merlin's hand again as they enter the castle, for the way he smiles low and shy at Gwen, for the unvoiced need that he carries inside him. He loves the warm dizziness that wine gives him, and how Gwen's mouth tastes like sweet, crushed grapes.

When he undresses Arthur tonight, Merlin does not take care. He strips Arthur quickly with fumbling fingers and almost pushes him down onto the bed. Merlin takes more care with Gwen, then lets her undress him and pull him down next to Arthur. 

He cannot give them back everything they've lost, not even with his magic, but he can try and give them something new, something that will last well past the coming winter.

–-----------------------

24.

**Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** knotting

“ _Dragonlord_ ,” people would hiss out like a curse as he walked by.

He was never welcomed in towns for long once they realized what he was. _Who_ he was. No one wanted to be subjected to his level of well-intentioned trickery. And he could not blame them. The cost of the aftermath was often a high one.

The dragons were a dying species, unable to properly breed with one another due to the combined magic being too strong. So they learned to take on human forms. They learned to breed with those the dragonlords preselected for them. The unknown victims.

Merlin had to beg to get this room for the night. He swore to the innkeeper he was on his way out of town, would not sneak out in the night, and would leave at first light.

He was done with this village anyways.

Heavy footsteps creaked just outside his room and the door swung open, prompting Merlin to stand.

“Done already?” his shoulders slumped. “Please tell me you liked my choice this time.”

Arthur, one of the Pendragons, and one of Merlin’s favorite species, shook his head. “She was of no interest to me.” He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and walking well into Merlin’s space.

Merlin knew what was about to happen. It had happened before and it would probably happen again. The dragons had to prepare themselves to breed, and if someone wasn’t there to help them finish the cycle they started, an alternative had to be found.

Merlin didn’t mind being an alternative. Because Arthur was a strong part of the reason pendragons were his favorite.

“Someday, I’m going to find you the right one,” he said with a shake of his head. “And someday, you’re going to have to like her.” 

And when that day came, Merlin knew something deep inside of him was likely to crack.

Arthur mirrored Merlin’s shaking head. “Never,” he swore, unpinning his cloak and letting it fall to the floor.

Merlin sank into Arthur’s kiss, his brow furrowing as he noticed all the small, human nuances the dragon had picked up in their times together. Such as the cradling of his cheek. Or how his lips trailed his jaw. And the way he seemed to worship Merlin’s body once they were both naked and on the bed.

Turning over onto his hands and knees, Merlin braced himself as he was breeched. Each and every dragon species was built differently, but the one thing they all had in common was a large girth. The stretch took Merlin’s breath away every time and as Arthur sank in deeper, Merlin let out a low groan.

“Nothing could ever compare to this feeling.”

Those words made Merlin want to come then and there.

Arthur’s thrusts were powerful, even as his large, rough hands roamed over Merlin’s body. It was as if he could never get over how human flesh felt in comparison to his usual scaly skin. It was as he ran his palms up and down Merlin’s inner thighs that the dragonlord broke.

“Arthur. Arthur, you damn tease, just give it to me, you know I can take it. I want it. Please. Please!”

One hand sliding up over Merlin’s lower abdomen and chest, holding him against Arthur’s body, and the other wrapping around his straining erection, Arthur gave it to him.

Merlin was plunged into and soon he could feel his entrance slicking up as Arthur’s precome began to leak in preparation. Merlin’s hand reached up to grip Arthur’s golden hair, a slight trill of fear spiking through his pleasure fogged body.

The pain was enough for Arthur, and with a cry, his knot began to swell, forcing him to reduce his thrusts into small, quick pushes as he became trapped in Merlin’s body. Still mindful, Arthur’s hand began to move, warring back Merlin’s discomfort with gratification.

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed, his voice hitching on the word. “Merlin…”

Merlin felt the exact moment Arthur’s orgasm hit him. His knot swelled and his cock seemed to strain from deep within before bursting in a long, slow series of pulses that had Arthur trembling and moaning with excursion. His hand on Merlin had stilled, his body no longer able to function in any other capacity aside from breeding Merlin full.

It was in this moment that dragons were the most vulnerable.

“ _Merlin, Merlin, Meeerrr—lin_ , you will never—” the words sounded as if they were coming through gritted teeth. “—never, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, we don’t love—I don’t—Merlin, I don’t know why, don’t—understand—Merlin, Merlin, Merlin—love you—”

As Merlin’s mind came back to him, he realized there were tears on his cheeks, and he gently guided them to roll onto their side. Arthur was still gone; his lower body was tense with tremors and soft whines peeled from his throat at his prolonged orgasm. Occasionally, his hips would push forward, and Merlin’s name would choke its way past his lips. 

Drifting off to sleep, Merlin wondered if maybe he would be safe from eventual heartbreak after all. 

_–-------------------_

25\. 

**Pairings:** Freya/Mithian  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Note:** Fusion with _Ladyhawke _(1985).__

Night. Frost crunched under the cat’s paws as it paced towards home, beads of blood decorating its muzzle. 

The cat didn’t know why it went home. Every night it roamed the woods, and every morning, in the hours before dawn, something – some scent – would guide it back to the same spot, the same green hollow in the ground, where it would curl and sleep as the first of the sunlight seeped across the ridge. 

*

Freya woke up, filthy, with blood on her lips. She squinted, the greenish sunlight filtering through the trees hurting her eyes. She began to crawl across the forest floor to the hollow tree where she’d stowed an old sack. From the sack she drew a thong for her tangled hair, and a dress, and a handful of nuts.

As she ate her meagre breakfast, there was a beating of wings overhead. She looked up and saw the hawk settling upon a branch above her head; and she smiled. She reached out a hand, whispering softly to tempt it down.

The hawk settled on her arm. It looked at her and began to preen itself. Probably it didn’t know why it came to her, but it always did. Freya stroked its feathers lightly with a finger, making soothing noises, and said, “shh. It won’t be long now.”

*

It had been four years since the curse, and half a year since they’d taken to living in their hollow. They were safe there, hidden as it was; but that morning Freya left, with her sack in one hand and her hawk flying overhead.

She left the hollow, left the woods, walked half a day to a place where atop a steep hill there stood a ring of white stones – a place where she used to come with her people, before the purge. It should have been teaming with people, Freya knew, on a day so sacred, but there was only her, and the hawk. She left the hawk flying about the stones and sat upon the ground, rooting through her sack for food and water.

The sun was standing high in the sky, but soon it would be gone, for a little while. Freya sat hunched against a white stone, and stared at the hawk flying overhead.

*

The hawk flew lower and lower as the light began to dim, at last settling on the stone at the centre of the ring, the altar-stone. There it cried out plaintively as the last of the sunlight died away.

Its cry fading to soft, gasping breaths as it transformed; and Freya’s eyes watered as she stared, drinking in the sight of the woman on the altar stone.

Mithian’s hair fell in clumps about her head, and she was staring at Freya, staring at her as if she was a ghost. Did she know what was happening? Freya didn’t know. 

“Freya, what –”

“Hush.” Freya crawled across the grass to the altar stone. “We don’t have long.” Her fingers touched the cold, white stone, and her lips touched Mithian’s hot mouth.

How long did they have? Minutes, perhaps. She shucked off her dress and kissed Mithian again, their bodies pressing together. There was a scar on Mithian’s cheek that hadn’t been there four years ago.

Mithian was talking, babbling about all sorts of things, about how she’d passed the years they’d been apart, and Freya wanted to listen, wanted to drink in every word – but she wanted to touch, wanted to put her hands and her lips on every part of Mithian’s body. She rubbed her cheek against the tense skin of Mithian’s belly.

“Here,” said Mithian, “here –” Her hands, her strong hands, were pulling Freya up, up.

She’d been afraid all day, afraid that it won’t work, afraid that if it did they wouldn’t know each other anymore – but they still knew each other. They fell into each other with in a messy rush, Freya straddling Mithian’s thigh, her fingers buried in the hot, wet place between Mithian’s legs, their breaths mingling, their hearts pounding.

The darkness about them was abating. “I won’t go back,” Mithian was panting, “I won’t, I won’t –” She cried out, and if it was pleasure or pain Freya didn’t know; she closed her eyes and gasped as she came, seeing bright lights inside her eyelids.

She caught one last glimpse of Mithian before the sun was shining down on them, and with a queer burst of light she was a hawk.

–------------------------------

26.

**Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** Major character death

 

Merlin wakes up to Arthur’s lips around his morning wood, which, in all honesty, is his favourite way to wake up. He doesn’t open his eyes, trying to savour sleep for a bit longer, but moves his hand to Arthur’s soft hair. Running his hand through it, he carefully urges Arthur on. It’s sweet and slow, on the verge of being too much and not enough at the same time. When Merlin does open his eyes, it’s to Arthur looking up at him, smiling with Merlin’s thick cock stretching his mouth. It doesn’t take much more than that.

Afterwards, they stay in bed a little too long for a work day – kissing, caressing, just being. Merlin strokes Arthur’s hair, plays with it and twirls it between his fingers. It’s getting too long again, but it’s the perfect length to run your fingers through. He presses his lips to Arthur’s, getting a satisfied hum in return.

Eventually, they need to get up. There’s money and work and responsibilities to be earned and done and taken care of. They share a kiss on the doorstep before going their separate ways: Merlin to the tube, and Arthur fastening his helmet and hopping on his bike to ride to work.

Merlin looks after him when Arthur turns the corner and disappears. Sighing, he turns around and walks toward the station.

\---

_“Marry me?” Arthur says, fingers shaking slightly as he takes the thin, silver ring out of the box and reaches for Merlin’s hand._

_Like Merlin could ever say no to Arthur. Like he ever would._

\---

Merlin receives the phone call three minutes after he arrives at work.

\---

_They spend the evening curled up on the sofa, like they always do, but this time it’s different. Merlin is hyper aware of the ring on his finger and he can feel Arthur’s, too, where their fingers are entwined. Happy, he turns his head and kisses Arthur’s neck._

_He gets a small smile in return._

\---

It’s still rush hour, so the taxi ride takes far longer than it should. When Merlin is close enough to run, he pays the driver and abandons the car.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...

\---

_Arthur takes him to bed and opens him up slowly, too slowly, and Merlin swears at him for being not only a tease, but a horrible person in general. Arthur just laughs and curls his fingers just right, effectively shutting Merlin up. They whisper wedding plans in each other’s ears, which start out normal and sweet, but quickly turn ridiculous and vulgar – but it’s_ them _and it’s_ fun _and when Merlin can’t stop laughing, Arthur kisses him slowly and carefully, whispering a quiet “I love you” into his mouth._

\---

Afterwards, he doesn’t remember anything except arriving at the hospital in a state of barely contained panic, the calm, matter-of-fact voice of the surgeon, and the bland tea he is served in the waiting room.

He doesn’t remember Morgana, Uther, or Hunith arriving. He doesn’t remember Morgana breaking down in tears, or Hunith taking him home. He doesn’t remember anything about the next three days.

Eventually, Hunith has to leave his side to go out for food. 

There’s a sudden loud, metallic noise outside. Merlin slowly gets out of bed and treads quietly down the stairs. He opens the front door and finds the remains of the bike lying on the pavement outside the house. The metal is twisted and it hardly resembles a bike anymore, but Merlin knows it’s Arthur’s. It’s the same beautiful red it always was, except where the paint has been scraped off at the crash. Merlin sits down beside it, not caring about the cold pressing into his limbs. He traces the small golden dragon on the back of the seat with his fingers.

He doesn’t start crying until Hunith returns and coaxes him back into bed.

And then he can’t stop.

\---

_“Baby names for a girl, Merlin?”_

_Merlin takes Arthur’s hand and squeezes it gently. “We’re not even married yet, clotpole.”_

_Arthur gives him a kiss._

_“Still. It’s never too soon to plan for the future.”_

–----------------------

27.

**Pairings** Uther/Ygraine, Arthur/Gwen  
 **Warnings** Discussion of infertility.

Ygraine ran her hand over Uther’s back, her legs parting for him and embracing him like a soldier returning from battle. He wasn’t just any soldier, he was the King and they weren’t just making love, they were making a prince.

Her golden hair flowed over the pillows, a tangled mess that Uther ran his fingers through as he pushed into her, filling her entirely. She couldn’t imagine not becoming pregnant the first time he bedded her but it hadn’t happened, nor had it happened in the several years after.

She rocked her hips up to meet his, desperate to help them conceive in any way they could and when she felt the first rush of his seed spilling, she clung onto him, milking him for every last drop.

Long after he had fallen asleep, she was still awake; daydreaming of boys’ names and wooden toys. She pressed her thighs together as if it would stop the possibility from running away from her.

-

A week later, she wept at the sharp pains that came with her bleeding. She would not have a child this month, just like every month that had gone before. She suspected she never would. She could feel it in her very soul, something crucial was missing between them and everything natural told her it was not meant to be.

But they lived in an age where natural was not the be all and end all of all things. She took Uther’s hand and placed it on her belly. “Talk with Nimeuh, she promises you will have a son.”

The deal was made and the rituals performed. With Uther inside her and the knowledge it would work, she clung to him even tighter. Her body told her it was not meant to be and she would not survive it but when Uther held her afterwards, his head pressed against her belly, as if he might hear his child’s laughter already, she decided it was worth it.

-

Gwen smiled down at her King, lowering herself onto his cock and planting her hands on his chest. He was looked like a dream, with his golden hair against the white pillow. She loved it best like this, being able to see him entirely while riding his cock.

They’d never discussed children. She knew it was a delicate issue, given how his mother had died in childbirth, a fact he still blamed himself for. But at the back of her mind lingered a hope. Perhaps this time. Camelot was at peace, Morgana had not been seen for nearly a year and the knights’ ranks were strong again. Now would be the perfect time.

When she felt him finish inside her, she leaned down, close enough to kiss him through it. His hand slipped between their bodies and stroked her clit, drawing her down to share his pleasure.

Afterwards, she dreamed of Arthur holding a baby in his arms but when she woke, he was only holding her.

-

A little over a month later, Gwen woke to find her nightdress and the sheets stained. She hadn’t been prepared. She’d thought... It didn’t matter now.

She woke Arthur and in his sleepy state, he rolled out of bed without questioning her. It was only after he’d splashed some water over his face that he realised she was stripping the bed. “Merlin can do that.”

“Really, you can’t ask him to,” Gwen said, her voice tight, her skin flushed. “I can manage.”

“Guinevere,” Arthur said, taking her hands away from the sheets before she ripped them. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” she said reluctantly, hating the tears in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have given it thought but I was late this month. I thought I might be...” She lowered her voice, as though she was about to share a secret. “Pregnant.”

“It’s not stupid,” Arthur assured her, pulling her close and kissing her head.

She bit her lip, angry tears finally falling. “I’m sorry; I should be able to... I’m your wife, I’m meant to give you an heir. Otherwise what good am I?”

“Now you are being silly,” Arthur said, tilting her face so he could look into her eyes. “You are more important to me than anything, including carrying on the Pendragon line. If I’m not meant to have a child then I am grateful it’s you who will bear my name instead. I love you.”

Gwen kissed him, not realising just how worried she’d been until relief lifted the weight from her.

–-------------------

28.

**Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** None

The cycle repeated every spring since Arthur came of age. Uther invited nobles from every corner of the realm so their eligible maidens could vie for Arthur’s attention. A good mate would ensure a strong alliance with a neighboring kingdom.

Last year, King Rodor brought his daughter, decked in white fur and borne on a sled of wild edibles from the most remote corners of the northern lands.

The year before, Queen Annis paraded her twins before Arthur. Flowers wreathed each maiden's head. Their retinue hauled heavy wagons laden with azaleas and the pear trees that now took root beside Camelot’s eastern courtyard.

Like the others that visited in past years, they too met with Arthur’s disinterest. They returned to Caerleon, leaving their scented flowers behind—so many that even Merlin donned a floral crown while he freshened Arthur's chambers and polished his armor.

Arthur remembered the tendrils of greenery that spilled down Merlin’s neck. The sweet scent of hyacinth wafted above Arthur’s bed long after Merlin finished changing his linens.

Tonight, when Olaf’s daughters wrapped their lithe bodies in silk and danced for the prince, Arthur merely yawned and beckoned Merlin to fill his tankard.

Arthur was already deep in his cups when he spied Merlin sneaking sips of wine from the gilded chalices as he cleared them from the high table. It was of no consequence. Merlin had attended Arthur in every season, whether the Pendragons negotiated a treaty with a sworn enemy or whether they courted a mate for a prince.

When the evening ended, Arthur stumbled up the stone steps to his chambers, glad for Merlin’s strong arms to guide him.

“Come, Sire,” Merlin said as they entered Arthur’s bedchamber. “It's time you got some rest.”

Arthur collapsed into his favourite chair and waited for Merlin to ready him for sleep. Merlin pressed his lips into a thin line, taking his manservant business far too seriously for Arthur’s liking.

“Really, Merlin,” Arthur said, muzzy-headed enough to tease. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Merlin grinned and knelt to remove Arthur’s boots. “The princesses danced beautifully,” Merlin said when he dropped the second boot to the floor. He used the armrests of the chair to pull himself to his feet. “I see one left you a token of her admiration.”

Arthur hadn’t noticed the length of silk that had been draped around his neck. He laughed and pinched the fine gossamer with the fingers of both hands. Holding his arms wide, he wrapped the fabric across Merlin's shoulders.

“Did you enjoy their dancing?” Merlin asked. With eyes crinkled in delight, he seized the silk and swayed from side to side as if dancing to an imaginary lute.

“They don’t enchant me as much as my father would think,” Arthur said, tugging open the laces of his surcoat.

"I don't suppose so," Merlin said, spinning away.

Arthur threw his head back and laughed as Merlin baltered around the bedchamber with the silk, his dancing skills no better than when he arrived from Ealdor as a teen.

“What is it, my lord?” Merlin asked, releasing the silk from his fists. He climbed into Arthur's lap and straddled his thighs. “My dancing doesn’t please you?”

Arthur’s hands found Merlin’s slim hips, the rough fabric of his tunic beneath his palms. “It pleases me more than you know,” Arthur said.

Merlin nodded and leaned forward, any propriety forgotten. He framed Arthur’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply, while Arthur cupped Merlin’s arse and pulled him close. Merlin circled his hips, still dancing to the music in his head.

Arthur listened to Merlin’s breath quicken when their hardened cocks rubbed beneath their clothes. He thrust upward and smiled when it made Merlin tilt his head back, lips parted in a soft moan. Feeling his crown shift, Arthur caught it in his hand before it could slip from his head. At the sudden movement, Merlin looked at him through his lashes. Unable to resist, Arthur set the crown in Merlin’s soft hair and ran a knuckle down his cheek.

Without further consideration of sleep, Arthur hoisted Merlin from their seat and dropped him on the bed. He sucked Merlin’s cock until he spilled, the thick cream as sweet as the frosting on the cook's finest cake.

For years, the cycle of princesses banqueted in the great hall before Arthur, each potential mate more exotic than the next. But none could compare to the companion who already slept at his side.

–------------------------------

29.

**Pairing: Arthur/Merlin**  
 **Warning: references to canon character death**  
Merlin was running late again. Blue beanie pulled low over his ears, he pushed his way through the early morning crowd at Daegal’s Cafe. He glanced down at his wristwatch and muttered a curse getting a few frowns in the process. Ducking his head in apology, he stumbled against somebody.

“Watch where you’re going!” 

“Sorry” was already on the tip of his tongue when he glanced up. The stranger, dressed in a suit probably costing more money that what Merlin made in year, glared at him. 

Merlin hesitates. For the barest of seconds, like a twinge one might feel in healed bones on rainy days, he thinks about apologizing and walking away. 

But there’s a phantom ache, something familiar and bittersweet. He arches an eyebrow instead, staring at the stranger, “Are you sure you shouldn’t be the one apologizing?”

The man narrows his eyes, blue eyes sparking in anger and something else. Challenge, he thinks and the world tilts as-

Merlin leans back slightly as Arthur, pulls him close. The air is heavy with smoke and sweat and he can still taste the whiskey sour he had earlier on his tongue.

“Come back to mine,” Arthur says, his breath warm and low against Merlin’s ear. Arthur’s not Merlin’s type. Too blond and too blue blooded with one foot still firmly in the closet.

But Arthur’s hands are sure and steady against Merlin’s hips. His thumb, rubbing circles in an all familiar way and Merlin’s shudders, feeling the world narrow down to a brief moment.

“Yeah sure,” he says, twisting around to look at Arthur. Something slots in place when Arthur gives him a heated look while pulling him out the club.

The ride back to Arthur’s apartment is full of furtive looks and barely held arousal. And they're already kissing before they even make it past the door. 

Arthur pulls them through with their lips still locked, hands already tugging and discarding clothes as they make their way to the bedroom.

Merlin presses Arthur down on the bed, straddling him as he looks down. Arthur grins up at him, cheeks flushed, lips swollen red and blond hair tousled from where Merlin had ran his hand through. 

Splaying his hand across Arthur’s chest is a memory learned and memorized. Merlin’s breath catches-

He sees Arthur looking back up at him, eyes bright with love. 

“Are you going to be just staring at me all day,” Arthur says, voice amused.

Merlin rocks his hips, thrusting down and watches as Arthur’s eyes dilate further, fingers bruising tight against his hip.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, in exasperation and benediction rolled in one. There’s too much fondness, too much love in between the words. They don’t need to speak of love or what they would choose because it was woven with every press of skin, with every warm breath.

The world is at at war but here in the quiet edge of their bedrolls, sheltered away from (and yet too close) to the gunfire, they trace stories they had always known onto each other's skin.

The next day when they're facing the Germans deep in the trenches, Merlin watches Arthur as he weaves in between the soldiers.

 

It's not too long after that Arthur finds him, the rifle once so awkward, steady in his hands.

"They say the war will be over soon," Arthur says after a moment.

Merlin turns-

Eyes widening as he sees the sword wound. It wasn't meant to have happened this way. The prophecy had spoke about the future, but the future turns to ash as Arthur falls.

"Arthur," the words break and fall apart and Merlin rushes to catch him. Arthur is heavy against him, face too pale and sweaty.

"You said you were the best swordsman in the realm," Merlin says weakly, tears flickering against his eyelids. His hands are too shaky, but Arthur's eyes are clear.

"I am."

"So what do you call this?"

"A lucky shot," Arthur says as he grimaces.

"We need to take you to a healer--"

"No, there won't be time--"

"Arthur--"

"Merlin." It's an oath, a promise, something more than fate or destiny. Their choice across a thousand lifetimes.

Merlin holds onto to Arthur, watches as their men fall to the Roman legion around them. Holds on as Arthur breathes become shallow and his body more limp. It takes four men to pull him away from Arthur's body when they find him. 

 

~*~  
"Just hold me." And Merlin does long after the waters of Avalon carried Arthur away.

–----------------------------------

30.

**Pairings** Elena/Mithian  
 **Warnings** none

Elena first sees the swan on one of her rides. It's beautiful, all graceful lines as it glides across the small lake, leaving barely a ripple behind. She's struck breathless by it, and watches for nearly half of an hour, jealous of how effortlessly elegant the bird is when she can barely manage a curtsy without falling on her face.

She returns home before sunset, but that night, she dreams of white feathers and pink, demure smiles.

\---

She can't understand why she's so captivated by it, but again and again, Elena finds herself going out of her way to ride to the lake. The bird is always there, alone and still on the water. It never bothers her, even when she stays on the banks for hours. She tries tempting it with food, once or twice, but it only bows its head at her and floats away.

It's quiet and peaceful and rapidly becoming Elena's favourite place, her own secret hideaway in the forest. She can just _be_ , only sharing her time with a swan.

\---

Lulled to sleep by the dying afternoon sun and her packed lunch, Elena wakes just as evening is falling. The sun is almost fully set. She groans to herself and sits up. Her father is away, off negotiating some treaty with Mercia, but Grunhilda surely will have noticed her absence by now. She begins gathering her things, already preparing herself for the chastising she's in for, when she hears the sound of rushing water.

She turns and stares. Her swan is rising from the water, wings spread. The last rays of the sun's light strikes the water's reflection, bathing everything in a golden light. The afterimage of the light show plays on the inside of Elena's eyelids, and when she opens her eyes again, the swan is gone. Instead, a woman swims her way towards Elena.

There's something inexplicably familiar about her, pale skin and dark hair and pink lips, and as she steps onto the shore, water cascading down her naked body, Elena can only gawp. "Where's my swan?"

The woman's laugh is not unkind, but there's a bitterness underlying it. "My name is Mithian."

\---

Now, Elena's sneaking out later in the evening. She still spends hours by the lake, only now, it's more often bathed in moonlight, and instead of watching her swan, she watches Mithian. Her voice is like a bell, clear and beautiful and enchanting, and Elena's favourite pastime has rapidly become trying to coax laughs from the woman. It's clear the effort is appreciated, especially as Mithian has had little to laugh about in some time. 

"We'll find some way to break the curse," Elena promises, over and over. But by the time the sun rises, Mithian is always a swan once more.

\---

"My father wants me to come with him to Camelot."

"Perhaps you should."

Elena lifts her head from where it had been resting on Mithian's stomach. It's hard to see her friend's expression in the light of the quarter moon. Not for the first time, she desperately aches to see how sunlight would light up Mithian's face.

"I won't leave you," she says. "You'll be here all alone."

Mithian sits up and reaches out, framing the sides of Elena's face with long, slender fingers. "You can't spend the rest of your nights here, in the middle of nowhere with me. No matter how much you want to."

Elena's answer is little more than a snarl as she pushes Mithian back to the ground and climbs atop her. "Watch me," she says, and leans in, covering the woman's mouth with her own. Though they'd never done this before, Elena isn't surprised in the slightest when Mithian kisses back without hesitation. "Elena. Love, please."

"I love you," Elena says when they draw back, panting. "I'll spend every night here if I have to." Mithian's hands have come back to caress her cheeks again, and Elena leans into the pressure as she unbuttons the dress she'd given Mithian. Her fingers part Mithian's legs easily and slip into the wetness there, curling up and drawing the most delicious gasps and moans from Mithian's throat. "I'll look for a cure every day, and I'll come back here and we can do this every night."

She suspects the tears on Mithian's face aren't solely from overstimulation.

\---

Elena isn't sure when she falls asleep, but when she wakes in the morning, it's to sunlight, laughter, and decidedly human lips on hers.

–---------------

31.

**Pairings:** Gwaine/Percival  
 **Notes/Warnings:** A/B/O-verse mating cycles, with the attendant dubious consent issues, although authorial intent (if that counts for anything!) is that both parties are willing participants. 

***

Percival is in heat.

He squirms, curses silently, but there's nothing to be done. His veins are pumping his too-hot blood south, and there's a slick open feeling between his legs. Maybe if he can change his breeches he'll escape Gwaine's notice until they get home. But maybe not. He's oozing, dripping wet, perfectly omega-ripe and it feels so good, except ... at home he could feign sickness, satisfy himself well enough til it passes - but he has work to do.

And Gwaine smells good. Percival rocks his hips as subtly as he can, hands in his lap, pressure on and off his hardening cock, his needy backside. It _feels_ good.

Gwaine looks up from the fire. 'What's that smell?' he asks, looking around. He scents Percival almost immediately. 'Sweet mother of god,' he says. 'It's you. You're -'

'Omega,' says Percival wretchedly. 'I know. I - it's - I can control it, I promise. It's not a problem, I just -' He knows he's blushing.

Gwaine leans forward. 'You're in heat,' he says, worshipfully, hungrily. Percival's body responds to it - leaning back, knees parting. 'Can I help you with that?' Gwaine asks.

Percival groans, the urges he's been trying to hold back punching through. Can't. Shouldn't. Want to. _Need -_

'Please,' he moans through clenched teeth. Suddenly, shockingly, Gwaine is there, mouth, hands, weight, tearing off clothes like digging for treasure, and it's all Percival can do to keep up, desperate to roll over for Gwaine, kneel and spread, be good, get bred -

But Gwaine grins when he has them both bare, sweating in the evening air, and asks 'how do you want it?' Not just taking, like the alphas Percival's known before, who said he was too big and tough to be a proper omega, and needed to be shown.

'I -' Percival stutters, 'I don't know.'

Gwaine strokes Percival's cock. 'You could let me lick you,' he suggests. 'Or I could suck you, put my fingers in you -'

'Don't you want to just fuck me?' Percival gasps, thrusting helplessly into Gwaine's hand. 'Please, Gwaine, I need -'

'Oh sweetheart,' Gwaine purrs, and the petname in that alpha rumble wrings clenching want from Percival's gut, 'of course I do, and I swear I will, but you're too delicious like this to waste. I want to suck, fuck, taste, want you inside me, my fingers inside you - Christ, so many things.' He shakes himself, pressed so tight against Percival and making him moan. 'But what do _you_ want?'

Percival's head is spinning, but he knows what he wants, deep in the wet hot core of him, and Gwaine will give it to him. He shoves wildly until Gwaine moves, scrabbles onto his hands and knees, presenting himself, hungry for the pleasure of a proper mating, too frantic for play. 'I _want,'_ he says, growling deep even though he's omega, 'to be _fucked.'_

At first, Gwaine just gently touches Percival's arse and Percival is afraid suddenly that he will be teased, won't get his choice after all, but then Gwaine slams home and Percival's body melts into it, cock heavy between his legs, knees weak, blood humming.

'Like that?' Gwaine demands, knot at the base of his cock already threatening to swell and making Percival wild. No-one ever - he's not small or pretty like a proper omega and the times he's been knotted before it hasn't been til his own orgasm, til his own heat-scent pushed the alpha over the edge. But Gwaine seems turned on by more than just natural urges. Percival realises he's moaning that out loud too late.

'Jesus,' Gwaine swears, thrusting harder, beginning of his knot catching at Percival's hole. 'Those bastards didn't fucking deserve you. You're amazing. So strong -' he punches in and sticks this time, swelling, and Percival can feel himself burning up, ready, close. '- and brave. Gorgeous -'

Percival loses track of the praise, coming in messy spurts on the ground and Gwaine isn't far behind, cock jerking inside Percival, locked tight and perfectly scratching the unfathomable itch of heat.

'And if you ever need more convincing,' Gwaine pants into Percival's sweaty shoulder, 'Come see me when you're not in heat. I swear, I'll knot you any time you want.'

–-----------------------------

32.

**Pairings** Arthur/Gwen  
 **Warnings** None

Once the tests came back clean and they’d been given the all-clear, they told their friends. 

“What? Why didn’t you ask me to get you pregnant?” was the first thing Merlin said. 

“Sweetie,” Gwen said, brow pinching. “You’re gay.” 

“So? So’s Arthur.” 

“Uh, I’m bi,” Arthur corrected. Merlin shrugged. Morgana rolled her eyes and leaned across the table, making their teacups rattle dangerously as she pulled Gwen into a big hug. 

“I’m so happy for you,” she said, smiling bright. Gwen pressed a big kiss to her cheek, excited and terrified and oh god she was going to make a baby. 

+

“So,” Gwen said, after the first time. Arthur had his hands over his face, her sheets tangled around his legs. 

“I’m really sorry,” he said, muffled. “I’m not used to doing this without protection.” 

Gwen patted him. “They say most couples conceive within a year, so it’s not like there’s a rush.”

“Right!” Arthur sat up, catching her around the waist with one arm. “Practice!” 

And he tugged her back down to the bed in a hail of laughter. 

+

They had a spreadsheet in their dropbox that helped them schedule around her cycle. Merlin kept editing it to add clip-art ducklings and hearts in the margins. 

“If I decide to have a second baby, I promise I’ll come to you first,” Gwen said, cuddling him. He laughed, bashful but clearly appeased. 

“Dibs on the third child, then,” Morgana said. 

“Naturally,” Gwen agreed. Arthur didn’t comment, just squeezed her thigh under the table, making her squirm. 

\+ 

“The schedule is becoming meaningless at this rate,” she said after opening the door to find him on her step a week early. Again. 

“What can I say?” He’d hardly kicked the door closed behind him before shuffling her back onto her couch. “I’m a hard worker. Diligent, even.” 

“I’ll be sure to make a note of it on your performance review,” she said, biting her lip as he nosed her panties aside and plied her with his tongue. “Extra points for effort, though what you hope to accomplish like this I— I can’t really guess.” Her voice went higher and thinner as he settled in, using his thumbs to keep her spread against his mouth. 

“A happy vagina is a fertile vagina,” he hummed, and she laughed so hard she almost brained him with her knee. 

“Vaginas aren’t fertile!” 

“Uterus then, you bloody pedant. Would you believe you’re the only woman I’ve ever known to complain about my dedication to the art of eating out?” 

She could feel him grinning, skimming his teeth gently against her labia and making her arch against him. 

“Not complaining,” she promised, sinking her hands into his hair. “Never complaining — _god_ , Arthur, yes!” 

+

 

When they’d first started talking about it, Gwen had worried things might get awkward. She never anticipated drowning in a sea of Morgana’s knitted onesies, or Merlin’s insistence on engineering the perfect crib and matching pram. 

So, delightfully not-awkward, for the most part. 

There was only the little voice in her head telling her she could get used to having Arthur in her bed every night that left her burying her face in her hands. 

+

“I’m gonna come,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, making her jolt with lust. He hitched her up hard into the cradle of his hips, rocking deep and groaning into her cheek, her neck, biting the join of her shoulder while his cock twitched and she struggled to catch her breath. 

His hands tightened on her hips when she moved to pull away, skin squeaking against the wood of her dining room table. 

“I need to get horizontal,” she said, nosing against the soft hair at his temple. 

“Not yet,” he said. She shivered when he slid a hand up her nape and into her hair, his other hand crawling around her hip until he got his fingers on her clit, rubbing fast and light. 

“It’s all going to come out like this,” she said, grinding against his fingers, his cock still fat and heavy inside her. 

“Then we’ll do it again,” he said, playing with her until she cried out, hot come sliding down his shaft and smearing between their thighs. “Practice,” he reminded her. 

+

His reaction to the positive home test surprised her. 

She hardly noticed when he set her back on the ground, still floating on the high of being kissed. 

“I don’t want to stop having sex,” she blurted, elation spurring her into honesty. 

“Oh, thank god,” he said, sweeping her into his arms again.

–---------------------------

33.

**Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** None

 

“Arthur, think about this!” Merlin kept his voice to a harsh whisper, even before he had closed Arthur’s chamber door. 

Arthur's sigh was just short of a groan. “Merlin, we _have been_ through this.” Merlin folded his arms, raising one judgment brow. “Look, it’s instrumental in the peace treaty. And really, if my father were still alive, he would have had my marriage be a political move anyway.”

“Yes, but your father is _not_ alive.” Merlin’s hands flew up in frustration. “What about Gwen?”

Arthur slammed his hand on the heavy wooden table. “Watch yourself, Merlin. You're coming close to stepping above your place.”

“But--”

“That’s enough! The marriage between myself and a person chosen by the Druids will take place in a moon’s cycle. It’s a gesture of goodwill, and an good alliance.”

“You’re throwing away your heart, Arthur,” Merlin said, quieter in an attempt to reason with Arthur one last time.

“Leave, Merlin, before I have you thrown out.”

***

“Why won’t Arthur listen to reason?!” Merlin was beyond frustrated with Arthur’s dismissal of his own heart. He _knew_ Gwen and Arthur were meant to be together. Even a blind man could see that! She would make a great queen of Camelot: someone Arthur could turn to, as Merlin was doing now.

“Maybe it’s for the best, Merlin.” Gwen’s needle worked the embroidery thread of the red jacket, adding a special flare for Arthur’s upcoming wedding. “Arthur and I...I just think we weren’t meant to be.”

“Where is this coming from, Gwen?” 

“Lancelot asked for my hand, and I told him yes.” 

Merlin felt the air leave him.

"Listen, Merlin. You _can_ save Arthur."

"How?" Merlin didn't see an angle where he could get Arthur out of this and keep the peace treaty between Camelot and the Druids.

Gwen stopped her needle work. "Now is not a time for pretenses, Merlin. _You_ can save Arthur."

"But, Gwen-"

"Merlin, you're magical. Don't deny it, I have eyes." Gwen sighed. "Merlin, Arthur doesn't really love me, because he loves someone he doesn't think he can have. _That_ is why he is walking into this treaty so readily."

Merlin bit his lip, trying to plot out his next move.

***

The closer the wedding came, the more Arthur pulled away from his friends. He became emotionless, performing every task with a detached air. Merlin didn't know what to do. Maybe find this secret love? Keep his tongue and watch his friend die inside? Some unknown third option?

Ten days before the wedding, Merlin made up his mind to the Druid encampment and try pleading for Arthur’s mysterious love.

***

"Arthur can not break his promise, young Emrys. But you can help your friend."

Merlin cocked his head. "How?"

"Take your place by his side."

"I have been by Arthur's side since I met him! That’s why I’m here, begging you not to trap him in a loveless marriage!"

The woman in front of him smiled. "That’s not something you have to worry about, young Emrys."

"Why?"

"Because fate has chosen you, young Emrys."

***

Sometimes, Merlin just wanted to punch fate in the nose. Merlin spent the ride back trying to think of a way to break it to Arthur that _he_ was the one the Druids were going to tie Arthur to in marriage. 

And surprising, it wasn't the having-to-marry-a-male part, but the Arthur-I-have-magic part that Merlin was dreading. He couldn't stand to see hate in Arthur's eyes.

He knew he need to tell Arthur now, and not in the middle of _their_ wedding. 

"Arthur, I need to tell you something and you are not going to be happy."

"What did you do _now_?"

"I-saw-the-Druids!" Merlin let the words rush out of him. 

" _Merlin_ \--"

"I know who they want you to marry." Merlin grimaced. 

"It's that bad?"

"It's...um...me?"

" _You_." Arthur deadpanned. 

"Look, okay, this is the worst time to tell you. And I _should_ have before, but--" Merlin lifted his left head and pooled his magic in his palm, forming a blue ball of light.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed out his name, before pulling Merlin in for a kiss and backing Merlin up against the wall. "I thought I was never going to get to have you."

"Arthur...you...oh!" Merlin understood Gwen's words now. Merlin felt something warm and hot wrap around him. "Really, Arthur, can't wait for the wedding?"

–------------------------------

34.

**Pairings:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** None applicable

It was hot and sunny, and Merlin smelled like sunscreen when he protested.

"We've gone on that one already," he whined. "Arthur, we've been on all of them. My head hurts and I'm going to vomit next time you make me go on a roller coaster."

"Girl," Arthur scoffed. 

"Am not!"

"Are too. You probably get migraines, and whine over your makeup when I'm not around."

"Oy! You're going the way of No-illicit-activities-on-the-Ferris-Wheel."

Arthur crooked an eyebrow. "Am I now?"

"I was planning to desecrate one of those little swingy carts, but no more now," Merlin said, and folded his arms to complete the picture.

"Well," Arthur reconsidered. "Maybe you're not a complete girl."

"Oh I'm not, am I?"

"Maybe. Perhaps."

"Not a girl when I'm fucking you, am I?" Merlin asked.

"Merlin!" Arthur scolded.

"What?"

"There are children!"

"Should have thought about that before you insulted my masculinity," Merlin sighed. "Too late for that, though..."

"Too late my ass," Arthur growled. "Come on, we're going to the Ferris wheel."

\----

The Ferris wheel was enormous. From where they stood at the bottom, it looked hundreds of feet high and shockingly rickety. But Arthur was finding it hard to get concerned, as Merlin was leaned close behind him in line. His chest was flat to Arthur's chest, and he murmured into Arthur's ear.

“How long does it take, you think? How many times can we go round? Imagine if we got stuck, up at the top. We could see everyone, the whole park, and I could suck you down up there. We'd have to be careful. I bet they'd love a show-” he said, and gestured to a handful of girls giggling and crowded together.

“They'd love to catch us at it,” Merlin continued, and Arthur had to lean back just a bit.

“Merlin,” he warned, but didn't know quite what to say after.

“Hm?” Merlin said.

“Stop it.”

Merlin huffed, but kept quiet until they were ten feet up. Then he squawked. Because Arthur had jumped him.

Arthur was all over him, straddling his hips and kissing the life out of him. Strong hands buried themselves into impossible black hair, changing the mess from 'just woke up this way' to 'recently fucked.' Merlin hoped he would be. Dear god, he hoped he would be, but-

“Condoms?” He asked.

“Why on earth would I bring condoms to a theme park?” Arthur asked.

“To have sex with!”

“No, you're the deviant here. Not me,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” Merlin whined. Arthur leaned in, mouthed at his earlobe.

“So fussy,” he said. He rubbed against Merlin, leaned against the rail so their car tipped and swung in the air.

“Hands?” Merlin asked.

“You'd damn well better, the way you kept going on in line. I'd fuck you sideways if I could.”

Merlin grinned. “When we get back.”

“When you don't taste like SPF 30,” Arthur said.

Merlin kissed him, his lips the only part of his body- almost- that didn't taste of sunscreen and sweat. Arthur slid back onto the bench and spared a thought for their surroundings. They were at the top of the wheel, far up in the air, and though the scenery was surely fantastic...

Merlin was tugging his shorts open, which was of much more importance.

Arthur followed suit, and got close enough to start jerking Merlin off. Their gentle descent became a countdown, and as Merlin stroked Arthur's cock, the sensation was coupled with tense, hot anxiety. Could the other cars see them? Was there time? Could anyone hear Merlin? Because the sounds he was making...

Merlin was breathing in short gasps, and though he wasn't actually using his voice- and Arthur missed that, because Merlin's voice as he masturbated was a glorious, gravely thing- it was unmistakeable what they were doing.

That pressure of “what if” rolled up with the fierce pleasure of Merlin's hand, fast and tight, to bring him off too soon. Arthur had to close his eyes against the sun, as his head hit the back wall and he covered Merlin's hand in come.

He needed a minute to recover, but Merlin was thrusting into his palm, so Arthur began a half-hearted up-and-down. But... 

They were ten feet from the ground, and Merlin was red-faced, and Arthur realized just in time to do his zip.

“I'll make it up to you?”

“Damn right you will.”

–----------------------------------

35.

 

**Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** Mention of zombie butt-kicking

“Oh, bollocks,” Will groaned in dismay. He dragged his hands over his face, streaking it with mud. “This is it, isn’t it? I’ve finally lost it.” 

“If you have,” Merlin said weakly from where he sat beside him, “then so have I.”

Still, Will’s words brought him a sense of relief, because that meant he probably wasn’t imagining the group of what looked like medieval Knights fighting off some zombies. Probably. 

But he had taken a hard hit to the head when one of their rescuers had shoved him out of the way of the oncoming horde, and was starting to feel it in the way the world was tilting. He dropped his hands- his magic didn’t seem to be needed, anyway- and shoved them down into the cool mud, trying to steady himself. 

“Fat lot of good that is. I knew you were nutters from the moment we met.” 

“I saved your life when we first met!”

“Exactly my point. What sane person sticks their neck out for a stranger during a shite apocalypse like this?”

A shadow loomed over them, interrupting their conversation. 

“Well,” said the man the shadow belonged to, “we just did, so I think a thank you might be in order.”

Merlin blinked up at him, gaping openly. He’s like an angel, he thought, awe-struck. Or like a mythological god come to life. 

The man stood in front of the sun like he was born of it, the light illuminating the golden hair plastered to his head with sweat like a makeshift halo, glinting off his heaving armor- clad chest and the sword he held at his side. Even his face looked regal, strong jaw and cheekbones and nose and all, as well as his intense blue eyes- which were giving Merlin an unimpressed look. 

“Something you wanted to say?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“My knight in shining armor,” Merlin said dreamily, then fell unconscious face-first into the mud.

***

He woke in a hospital-like room to the same face he’d passed out to, because wasn’t that just his luck?

“The damsel in distress awakens,” the man said, grinning widely to reveal a set of slightly crooked teeth that secretly made Merlin feel better, because it meant the man wasn’t perfect as he’d previously thought. 

“What are you doing here?” Merlin grumbled, his face heating in embarrassment. “And where is here, anyway?” 

“The outskirts of Camelot. Coincidentally, I’m Arthur Pendragon, second in command, and personally oversee any potential new residents before they’re allowed in. So if you could please strip, that would be great.” 

At Merlin’s look, Arthur shrugged. 

“Standard cycle of procedure. We check everyone for bite wounds before letting them in the walls. I’m sure you know why.” 

Merlin couldn’t argue with that. He shucked off his clothes, intent on being nonchalant about it. 

Or that had been the plan, anyway. It fell apart when Arthur reached out to move him around, using light, lingering touches that left Merlin half hard and made him question their necessity.

He kept his suspicions to himself until Arthur asked him to spread his legs so he could check Merlin’s bum. 

“You know what? Suck my dick,” Merlin fumed, sure he was being made fun of. 

But before he could move, Arthur sank to his knees in front of Merlin and said, “Okay.”

“I- wait, fuck, are you serious?” Merlin stared down at Arthur, at how close his face was to Merlin’s erection. 

“I was going to suggest something more, but we should wait until you’ve fully recovered from that head wound.” 

“Bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“You haven’t said no yet,” Arthur said with a smirk. 

And then he took Merlin in his mouth. 

“Shit,” Merlin breathed, transfixed by the sight of Arthur’s eyelids fluttering as he held Merlin’s eyes, his lips stretched around Merlin’s cock, tongue flattened against the length of it. 

He couldn’t look away when Arthur started to move, taking Merlin deeper down his throat with wet, obscene sounds, with harsh, panting breaths that filled Merlin’s ears.

He ran his hands through Arthur’s hair, grabbed hold when Arthur pulled off completely and tongued Merlin’s slit in a way that made his thighs quiver, was still holding on as he came with a cry, Arthur swallowing down his come down like he was fucking made for it. 

“By the way,” Arthur said calmly as he wiped his mouth, like he hadn’t just given a blowjob. “You don’t have magic, do you?”

“…No?” Merlin lied. 

“Oh, that’s good. I’d hate to have to kill you after all this. So, would you like to stay at Camelot?”

–-----------------------------------

36.

**Pairings** implied Arthur/Gwen, minor Arthur/Elyan, Elyan/Morgana (dub-con), implied Helios/Morgana  
 **Warnings** dub-con, canon AU, disguise/deceit  
 **Note** Inspired by a [small detail](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elyan_the_White) in the Arthurian literary cycle

Elyan was going through the shed behind the forge when he found the ring, nestled in a trunk of his mother's dresses. Tom probably couldn't bear to throw it out. The ring slipped easily onto his smallest finger.

"Gwen," he called. "Come see this."

Their mother had died giving birth to Gwen; Elyan had only the faintest memory of her. The ring was gold with a red gem that glimmered in the light from the doorway. Gwen might insist on selling it, but he thought it would look well on her.

Instead of Gwen, Prince Arthur stooped under the low lintel.

"I came by to see how you're getting on." He looked awkward in the small space, but Elyan was surprised and pleased that he would pay them a visit.

"A lot of junk, as you can see."

Arthur peered at the dresses. "Oh, are you going to try them on?"

Elyan raised an eyebrow. The man had a strange sense of humour. "I don't think they'd suit me, sire."

"They're a bit old-fashioned," Arthur fingered a surprisingly well-preserved dress, then looked him up and down. Elyan shifted uncomfortably. "But this would look beautiful on you."

"Uh," Elyan said. Before he could formulate a response, Arthur was moving closer. Elyan thought he was going to whisper -- something about Gwen? Was that why he was here? -- but then Arthur kissed his lips.

Elyan jerked away. "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry." Arthur looked abashed.

"I barely know you!" Elyan sputtered. He couldn't believe the gall of him. And after the way he acted toward his sister!

"You've known me almost as long as my father and Morgana, Guinevere."

What. It took Elyan several moments to disentangle his words. Arthur had called him _Guinevere_? Elyan looked down at himself, but he looked the same as always. Except--

Except for the ring twinkling up at him.

"I'm not feeling myself," Elyan said slowly. "You should go."

Arthur was concerned but obeyed, promising to send Gaius. As soon as he left, Elyan pulled the ring off, shuddering. He was _never_ putting that thing on again.

* * *

Elyan tried to destroy the ring in vain. He was afraid to tell anyone of it, afraid of it falling into the wrong hands. He didn't use it again until Morgana invaded Camelot the second time.

Everything was chaos, fire and ruin. Elyan woke on the cold stone of the hall and snuck back to his chamber where he pocketed the ring. In the woods, he slipped it on as he turned back to give Arthur and Merlin a chance.

"Agravaine," he whispered. When the oncoming swordsman stumbled, confused, he yelled, "They went that way!" and allowed himself to be carried with the tide of running men.

He spotted Agravaine on horseback and ducked into the trees, circling back to Camelot.

As a castle servant, he watched Morgana make Gwaine fight for a crust of bread. As a mercenary, he freed Gaius and Gwaine from the dungeons and listened to Morgana rage.

"Bring me back their heads," Morgana commanded Helios. She sent Agravaine to search for Arthur. That was the chance he needed.

Knowing Morgana's deepest fear, he became "Emrys." Only for a moment, an old, bent man in the crowd, just enough to unnerve her.

Then he became Helios, returning empty-handed, and let Morgana scream herself hoarse, then cry and cling to him with exhaustion and fear. Elyan pitied her, but it was the only way.

Except that she opened her eyes the moment he pulled the knife, grasped his hand with unexpected strength, sending a shockwave of pain through him. The ring seemed to pulse with heat on his finger.

"Almost had me that time," Morgana smirked. She arched and rubbed against him, waking all of his nerves. The knife fell clattering to the floor as Morgana bit his neck.

Elyan closed his eyes. This wasn't going how he had intended at all, but now Morgana's magic was unlacing his breeches and he _couldn't think_. She squeezed his balls until he groaned helplessly.

The throne was cold and hard against his skin as Morgana rubbed his face into her, as she mounted and used him, fucking herself on his cock. He spent himself -- as the real Helios entered the room.

"Oh," Morgana taunted, clenching with him still inside her. "You have some explaining to do."

Her hand sought his and she clawed the ring from his finger.

–-----------------------------------

37.

 

**Pairings:** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings:** Amnesia, dub-con due to amnesia

Merlin has only been in Camelot for a few minutes when he is unceremoniously run over by a man on a bike. When Merlin sits up and wipes the mud from his face, he can see that it is a devastatingly hot man on a bike.

“You might want to watch where you’re going,” Hot man says. “You almost bent my wheel rim.”

Then he bikes away.

*

Uncle Gaius calls for him to come in when Merlin knocks, as he is installed in a ratty arm chair, a cast covering is left leg from toes to knee. He frowns at Merlin’s disheveled appearance. “What happened?”

“I was almost killed by a devastatingly hot prat.”

Gaius nods. “Arthur,” he says. He looks at Merlin seriously. “You need to stay away from him.”

*

Merlin goes to pick up breakfast for Gaius from the shop on the corner, which seems to function as a bakery/café during the day and a pub at night. It isn’t until after the cashier takes his order and starts packing his food to go that Merlin feels someone’s eyes on him.

It’s hot and prattish Arthur, sitting at a booth.

“You’ve got a bruise on your head,” he explains when Merlin meets his gaze.

Merlin grabs his bag. “You would know, you caused it, remember?” he sneers, leaving quickly so that he doesn’t have to acknowledge how lame that comeback was.

*

The problem is Arthur doesn’t remember.

“Traumatic head injury damaged the receptors that store short term memory and turn it into long time memory. Once he goes into a REM cycle, the previous day’s data is lost. Arthur has been living the day of his accident over and over again for the last 3 years,” Gaius explains. “Merlin, you’re here to help me until I can walk again, leave the man alone.”

Merlin, for some reason, cannot.

*

Arthur, pre-accident, was a man of schedules, and he follows the same pattern every day. It only takes two days for Merlin to learn it, and he’s already bored.

The villagers don’t seem to mind, if anything they glare anytime Merlin does anything to disrupt Arthur’s schedule. Gaius explained that Uther Pendragon basically owned the town, but Merlin thinks the villagers care less about money, and more about Arthur himself.

*

Truthfully, Merlin does not need to disrupt anything to get Arthur’s attention. He’s always looking, always commenting.

“Nice ears, did you fly here with them?” he’ll ask, smirking while sipping his tea.

“Are you quite sure you can carry those bags with those arms?” he asks, propped against a wall outside the grocery shop.

Merlin finally snaps one day and asks if Arthur has a better solution. It turns out he does, and Merlin and his bags get a bike ride to Gauis’ house. Merlin takes his bags and turns to thank him, and is met with soft lips on his and a warm and calloused hand cupping his neck. Arthur smirks and rides away before Merlin can respond.

It would have been the perfect move. Stake your interest early, and let it develop from there. The problem is Arthur doesn’t remember making his claim the next day, but Merlin does.

Merlin is screwed.

*

“Holy fuck,” Merlin says, and presses his head harder into the wall of the bathroom stall. Arthur is between his legs, leaving hot and biting kisses up Merlin’s thigh.

“I’ve been looking at you all day, needed you now,” Arthur says, and suddenly Merlin is engulfed in the sweet wet heat of his mouth.

Merlin has learned how to play each day to get a desired outcome. Mouth off at Arthur at breakfast, snog in the park by nightfall. Grocery days lead to the same sweet kisses as the first. Then there are these days, which Merlin lurks in the periphery all day, then shows up for drinks at the pub at night.

Arthur always makes sure that Merlin comes first before he lets Merlin get him off. He always hints that he’s open to some biting, some marking. He even offers one night, when they are both wound up and crazy with lust, to bottom. Merlin says no.

He wants to say yes, to mark Arthur in some way tangible, the way Arthur has forever laid his mark on Merlin; on his heart.

So Merlin waits, and hopes.

Still, better to spend the rest of his days on repeat with Arthur, than another day without.

–---------------------------------

38.

**Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** None

Merlin picked up his cycle outside of Waterloo station and carried it inside. A London courier, he nonetheless couldn’t afford to live in the capitol, so he commuted in. It was a little far out, but cheap. 

He side-eyed the suits waiting for the train, and saw the blond, _sexy_ in that way that only City blokes were, again. Merlin caught his eye and felt the blush rise to his cheeks. 

*** 

Biking bloke was back. Arthur caught him staring again, which was frankly fine with Arthur because the man was endearingly cute with the most ridiculous ears. When the cycler blushed, Arthur felt sure he was in there. He decided then to board the train to Hampton Court; he knew that was the bloke’s train because he’d watched him take it at least thrice last month. Arthur could change later, at Surbiton and get the proper train to get home. 

He jostled his way into the train car after the cycler, and managed to stand next to him. It took several stops to catch his eye. “I’m Arthur,” he said by way of introduction. 

The man looked a bit startled, and didn’t answer at first. “Ah. Er, Merlin,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Ah, well. General purposes?”

Arthur grinned. “I’ve seen you in the station.”

“Likewise.”

Surbiton was coming up. “Any chance of your number? I’d like to meet for a drink sometime, if you’d like.”

An even more surprised and beet-red Merlin gave Arthur his mobile number.

*** 

When Friday rolled around, Arthur got to the point.

Arthur: So, Merlin. Would you like to get a drink with me tonight?

Merlin: Arthur?

Arthur: Are you in the habit of being asked out via random number SMS?

Merlin: Prat.

Arthur: Is that a no, then?

Merlin: Yes. 

Merlin: I mean, no.

Merlin: I mean, yes, I’ll meet you for a drink, so long as you don’t have a trophy wife stashed away at your mansion in Esher.

Arthur: ☺ I live in Weybridge.

Merlin: Of course you do. With your trophy wife, your aristocratic title, and your 7-bedroom mansion.

Arthur: 6. And no wife. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m gay.

Merlin: SIX bedrooms, Lord Pendragon?

Arthur: That’s my father, and I’d rather not think about him while I’m thinking about having your cock up my arse in every bedroom of my admittedly enormous house. 

Arthur: Want to come round? I have a wine cellar. And a bike rack.

Merlin: You’re kidding, right?

Arthur: Not at all. Meet me for the 5:40 train and I’ll show you.

**** 

 

They met at the train and Arthur once again jostled his way into the car with Merlin. 

They didn’t talk much (people don’t) but when they emerged at Weybridge station, Arthur led the way to a Range Rover. Merlin put his cycle in the back. 

They showered (separately), Merlin got a tour of the (ridiculously large) surprisingly traditional home Arthur had inherited from his Grandfather (and clearly spent a pile doing renos in). There was a bloody _indoor pool_ , for fuck’s sake.

After a really nice dinner, they cuddled on the couch watching AI until Arthur stood. Wordlessly, he led Merlin into the master suite – the one thing Merlin hadn’t seen on the tour.

“We don’t really have to,” Arthur began. 

Merlin put a finger to Arthur’s mouth, shushing him. “But I think we do,” he said, and kissed him. 

Arthur moaned into the kiss, sliding a hand down to Merlin’s waist and pulling him toward the bed. Arthur’s knees hit the side and he collapsed into the mattress. Merlin pulled off his shirt and settled on Arthur’s chest, pressing him down with his hips.

In moments they were both naked, and Merlin was hard, weepingly hard. Arthur had a leg up over Merlin’s shoulder, and his hole was open to Merlin’s fingers, long and gentle, relentless, pushing against Arthur’s prostate and causing his cock to jump against his stomach.

“Inside me, please,” Arthur begged in that posh Oxbridge voice of his. Merlin took his mouth, sliding his tongue in to claim while his dick claimed Arthur’s arse.

He pounded into Arthur, heat surrounding his cock, one hand on Arthur’s neck and another on his dick, coaxing his orgasm from him. Merlin hit Arthur’s prostate with his cock, and it was enough – Arthur’s release pulsed over Merlin’s hand, and a groaning wail was wrenched from Arthur’s throat as Merlin came deep in his arse. 

“Fuck,” Merlin said. “Next time I want to ride you on the desk in your library.”

***

It was awfully good that Arthur’s staff had been given the weekend off.

–------------------------------

39.

**Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** Dares, impromptu sex tapes, and a lose interpretation of the prompt

After four years of video blogging, Merlin Emrys, a.k.a. MagicalMerlin, is considered to be a fairly popular YouTuber by most standards. He believes that the key to his success lies not in his British accent or his unusually high cheekbones, but in his process of video creation, which occurs in five basic steps. These steps are as follows:

***

1\. Inspiration

Scrolling through his tumblr tag turns out to be a bad idea.

He already knows that fans think he and his roommate are a couple. Ever since he and Arthur met at Vidcon last year and started splitting rent, fans have been convinced that Merlin and Arthur Penn (a.k.a. kingarthurofawesome) are in some kind of secret relationship. On tumblr, it isn’t even speculation—it’s considered fact.

Currently, one of the trending posts in his fanbase is a gifset from one of his latest videos with Arthur. Apparently, when Arthur left the room to grab something from the kitchen, Merlin had turned to stare at his arse.

Fuck.

Merlin didn’t notice it when he edited the video a couple days ago, but it’s painfully apparent when looped in .gif format all over the internet. Someone even made a post to set the image side-by-side with the other “Merthur” gifs from earlier this year: the one where Arthur spoon-feeds him Nutella, the one where Arthur draws a cock on his face in Sharpie, the one where Arthur tickles him until he falls off the couch….

Merlin closes tumblr and leans back, running his hands through his hair.

…Is he really that obvious?

***

2\. Scripting

In the end, he decides to make another Dare or Dare video. Those are always popular. 

He’s scrolling through the comments on the previous video to find a few good fan-submitted challenges when Arthur comes up behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“Another dare one?”

“Mm-hm.”

Arthur takes a couple moments to read, and Merlin stays absolutely still. He’s hyperaware of Arthur’s breath on his ear and the warm hand on his shoulder.

Then Arthur gestures forward , pointing at one of the comments on the screen. “I’d like to watch you try that one. Looks fun. Not fun for you, though.” He straightens and walks to the kitchen.

_I dare you to stuff 10 ice cubes down Y-fronts for 1 minute, wearing nothing but the Y-fronts,_ Merlin reads.

He stares, feeling his heart beat faster and his face heat up. 

Arthur’s suggestion does _not_ get added to the list. 

***  
3\. Filming

“Come on, let me choose one. It’s not fair if you get to pick them all,” says Arthur, reaching over Merlin on the bed to commandeer the MacBook. He looks for a while before grinning straight at the camera. “Here’s a good one, Merlin. TheMerlinFangirl6 from San Francisco says, ‘I dare you to kiss each other, el-oh-el, ex-dee.’”

There’s a pause.

“What?” Merlin asks hazily.

“They dared us to kiss.”

“No, I mean—”

But Merlin isn’t prepared for Arthur to get that close. He’s not prepared for Arthur’s eyes, or Arthur’s breath on his face, or Arthur’s _lips_ ….

His lips are soft. Merlin expects Arthur to pull away after that, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips _move_ , parting slightly to let his tongue roam into Merlin’s mouth. There’s a blinking red light trying to tell them that the camera is still recording, but Merlin can’t bring himself to care. He’s kissing _back_ , goddammit, and his hand is sliding underneath Arthur’s shirt, and Arthur’s hands are clutching at Merlin’s hair and grabbing Merlin’s thigh and _fuck_ , he’s been craving this since day one. 

“Didn’t expect the dare to work,” Arthur says breathlessly against Merlin’s ear. Then the hand on his thigh moves higher to palm his cock through his trousers.

“ _Shit,_ pants Merlin. His fingers scrape across Arthur’s shoulders as they kiss and kiss and kiss until they’re both hard and gasping.

Arthur’s hand finds the zip on Merlin’s jeans. “Can I—”

“Yeah, yes, _God_ yes—”

And then Arthur’s mouth is on his cock, and Merlin can’t speak another word.

***

4\. Editing

“What are you doing?”

“Cutting the footage from yesterday.”

“Keep it.”

Merlin gives him a look.

“Not all of it, obviously. Just the snogging.”

“Well…” he begins, but then he think, why not?

Why not give them what they want?

***

5\. Posting

“I tried to make you all another truth or dare video,” Merlin’s voice says through computer speakers all over the world, “but… well, you’ll see what happened.”

Needless to say, the internet goes wild.

–-------------------------------  
40.

**Title:** Natural Disaster  
 **Pairing:** Merlin/Arthur Pendragon  
 **Warnings:** Character death – not Merlin or Arthur, some angst

Gwaine proffered the phone.

“Hello?” Merlin said, kicking Gwaine when he restarted the Wii.

“ _How’re you, Merlin_?” Morgana sounded raw.

“Since your brother broke my heart?” He snapped, Gwaine dying in-game as he tuned-in.

“Sorry, Morgs. I’m okay. You?”

_“Uther died today.”_

Merlin’s stomach dropped, heart aching for Morgana.

“I’m so sorry.” 

“How’s Arthur?” It just slipped out.

_“He’s…so calm - He’s gonna break. I’ve no right to ask_ -”

“When and where?” Merlin grabbed paper and pen, scribbling the details.

“You okay?” Merlin asked.

_“Gwen’s_ -” Muffled voices interrupted. _“Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”_

Merlin was left with a dial tone.

\---  
Morgana looked pale, but composed. 

Arthur…

Arthur looked _broken_ ; shoulders that Merlin thought could hold the world were bowed, his face gaunt.

The whole service Merlin stared at Arthur who stared straight ahead, unmoving and silent.

Morgana led the procession from the church, her grateful smile to Merlin loosening the knot in his stomach

Arthur stared blankly ahead.

\---  
At the wake, Merlin avoided almost everyone, not wanting to make small talk with people who considered him  
‘ _that boy who led Arthur astray’_. 

“You came,” Morgana’s eyes were red-rimmed, but she stood tall. 

“Can’t imagine it’ll help.” 

“He knows you’re here.”

“Huh?” Arthur hadn’t glanced his way once.

“Since the church, he’s…different.”

Behind Merlin floorboards squeaked.

“Merlin.” Arthur looked destroyed.

Dazedly, Merlin strode to Arthur, resting their heads together.

“You’re here.” Arthur’s presence washed over Merlin, missed and so dear. 

“Get me out of here.”

“Ar-”

_“Please.”_  
\---  
Merlin shucked his jacket as he closed his front door

“Why’d you come?” Arthur’s tone was vulnerable in a way Merlin’d never known.

“For you.”

“But why?” Arthur pleaded. “After everything, why-”

“I love you,” Merlin stated baldly and Arthur crumpled onto Merlin’s bed, strings cut.

“But…you left.”

Merlin winced, stomach in knots.

“This can wai-”

“It can’t make my week worse, Merlin.”

“It wasn’t a lack of love,” Merlin stated, “it was the lying…secrecy…Uther.”

“I took you for granted.” Arthur whispered.

“I felt like a manservant not a lover.”  
Arthur’s head snapped up, distraught. 

“I never meant-” Arthur implored.

“And we did what we always did instead of talking; fought, fucked, carried on and I couldn’t take that cycle again, but I’d give anything to fix it.”

“Fix?” Hope dripped from Arthur’s tone.

Merlin stood on legs weak with fear, unprepared for Arthur to snatch him forward, resting his head on Merlin’s stomach, Merlin curling protectively over his shoulders, feeling the tremble of exhaustion and grief.

“Please…” Arthur’s intent was clear, desperate hands pulling the shirt from Merlin’s trousers, skittering over Merlin’s skin, stroking over ribs more prominent than months before, self-loathing twisting Arthur’s gut. 

“We shouldn’t,” Merlin gasped, arching into Arthur’s touch, refuting his assertion. “You’re grieving - confused.”

Arthur scowled.

“Wanted you back since you left.”

Arthur dragged him onto the bed, cradling Merlin’s skull, urging him to look up.

“I love you.” 

Their bodies pressed along every inch, Merlin straddling Arthur’s hips, taking him in a possessive kiss, Arthur rolling them, their legs tangling in the sheets.

“So long since you touched me,” Arthur whimpered, sitting up, ripping his tie and shirt off before working on Merlin’s, Merlin drunk on the sensation of Arthur’s weight on him again, the rasp of his chest hair against sensitive nipples.

“Off,” Arthur growled, tugging at Merlin’s belt, as Merlin teased Arthur’s cock through his trousers, mouth watering with desire to swallow Arthur down.

Clothes gone, they came together as though never apart, easy as breathing. It was so familiar, yet so new, both changed by grief and broken hearts, movements lacking finesse as their thrusts became frenzied, cocks slipping and sliding against each other, pleasure overwhelming.

Arthur’s moans were so sweet, sinking into that hollow pit behind Merlin’s ribs that had gnawed at him since he’d walked away, and Merlin rewarded him with deep kisses, tongue laden with words he couldn’t say, brushing them into Arthur’s mouth.

“Fuck me,” Arthur whined as he chased climax.

The thought of prepping Arthur open with teasing licks and sucking kisses to his hole had Merlin crying out as he spilt between them, Arthur grunting as he followed after.

They curled around each other, catching their breath and trading gentle kisses.

“I told him,” Arthur whispered, “I was gonna win you back. Beg on my knees.” 

“Maybe that’s what did him in.” Arthur huffed a mirthless laugh. “He said he’d _allow_ me to be gay over his dead bod-”

Arthur’s voice cracked, sobs escaping.

As Merlin wrapped himself around his lover, the tears flowed.

–---------------------------

41.

**Pairings:** Lancelot/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None

Arthur throws his head back and moans, shuddering and thrashing even, as his orgasm hits him and makes him light-headed. He doesn't care that he's too loud, doesn't care that, perhaps, the neighbours are trying to sleep or have a big day tomorrow. He only needs to prolong his pleasure, with movement and sound, to vocalize it, to show Lance exactly how much he loves him, how endless is the pleasure the latter gives him. Lancelot continues thrusting in him, his hips snap and snap and snap; Arthur can feel the cock inside him throbbing and then he feels it, feels how it gets even harder and then Lance's thrusts become quick and shallow, jabs even, if Arthur needs be picky about his vocabulary, and his quiet moans mean the world to Arthur. They are one now, in sex, in this, in whatever it is that their life will become soon enough. They belong together.

Lance gradually slows down, and then (ever so graceful, the bastard) flops onto Arthur. The moment he realizes he's atop of him he tries to shift but Arthur wraps his hands around Lancelot's waist and keeps him in place. Lance emits a low sound to show he's understood, and moves until both of them feel comfortable. Outside, the night is bright and the wind hums with the distant sounds of a busy street. The gaining moon peeks through the open window. Arthur can see its shape cast on the curtain and its light dissipating in the room. Lancelot, Arthur notices, has turned his head from it; even in happy moments like this, even during sex it probably takes its toll on his mind. Arthur finds himself holding his lover tighter again, and inhales the scent of sweat and sex, mixed with the freshness settling after summer storms, coming from outside.

"Lance..." he whispers, and immediately feels Lancelot's whole body stiffen.

"Arthur… please."

His voice is breathy and weary and Arthur nods in agreement. He needs to talk about it, and he knows Lancelot is aware of this because of-fucking-course Arthur Pendragon must have a plan about everything that happens in life, his boyfriend being bitten by a werewolf included. Arthur had been surprised to find out that the worse part is seeing Lance suffer in silence, and not being able to help at all. They can't go to a doctor, and they probably look suspicious already, taking all the possible books on werewolves from the library, and purchasing a great deal more online. The person - Arthur has to force himself to think of that one as a person - who bit Lance is still out there and until the moon is full they are going to be in the dark about practically all of the details.

They had tried to stay away from each other, Lance especially had tried to stay away from Arthur for fear of hurting him one way or another, but Arthur had made it impossible. Lancelot the Werewolf was as every bit as passionate and gentle a lover as Lancelot the Human. They have to use condoms again, truth, and it is a bit inconvenient to re-stack on those, but it is for the best. They laugh at the image of tiny sperm with tiny werewolf fangs and claws and hellbent on impregnating Arthur through his butt or however it worked in real life.

Lancelot slides behind Arthur and spoons him with a possessiveness that is very new for him. Arthur does not mind. Moon cycles he can adjust to, and he looks forward to a time when he will be able to tease Lance about his time of the month.


	3. Group C (with warnings)

42.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** bad science

"Well Mr. Emrys, I have to say, your service record is exemplary. Henceforth, I'm assigning you one of our more, shall we say, spirited cases."

"I'm sure I'm up for the challenge sir."

***

Nothing could have prepared him for the challenge that is Arthur.

"I've just been promoted," says Arthur smugly, swirling a wisp of cirrostratus around in his palm. "I used to be a human."

"That's nice," says Merlin, twitching slightly as some of the clouds slip through his fingers and streak away across the sky.

Arthur clearly picks up on his disapproval and rolls his eyes. "So, what are you and why exactly do I need you?"

"I'm a cloud herder," says Merlin proudly. "I keep you and the other shepherds in line."

Arthur narrows his eyes. "I don't need a minder _Mer_ lin."

The remaining clouds in his palm tremble and blacken, tiny beads of rain forming on their undersides.

"Of course you don't."

***

"Gwen! Hey Gwen! Gwen look over here! Why isn't she looking at me Merlin?"

"Arthur please, you're really not supposed to make it rain when the sun is out. Especially not during Leon's heat wave."

"GWEN!"

Merlin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before chasing after his wayward charge.

***

"We've a nice easy assignment today: create some low-lying stratus over the Midlands and bring in some altostratus around midday."

"That sounds boring. Why don't I make a giant monster instead?"

"Because you can't just make up formations on a whim! This pattern has been on the calendar for weeks. Now come on, show me how you thin them out."

Arthur whines and flops on his back, picking apart the clouds petulantly. He's almost cute: in a pain in the arse sort of way.

***

August in Scotland is much like February in Southern England.

"That bits mine."

"Just because it's called 'Arthur's Seat' doesn't mean it's yours."

Arthur responds by sticking his tongue out at him and arranging his flock around the mountain, letting the sun through to its peak but blocking it from the rest of the city. Reporters dub it as the strangest weather phenomenon Edinburgh has ever seen.

***

Morgana is the East Wind. That's not a poetic description of her personality; she's literally the East Wind. She comes with autumn and drives Arthur up the metaphorical wall by blowing his herd all over creation. 

"No one likes you," Arthur says churlishly. "Literally. No one has ever said, 'hmmm, I do hope we'll have some wind today'. You're the worst bit of weather."

Morgana responds by blowing his clouds out over Swansea. Arthur puffs up his remaining flock into a castle complete with ramparts and catapults.

"Arthur, you should really go after your flock," Merlin tries weakly. He looks at the full scale battle going on in front of him and departs to track down Arthur's wayward stratoculumus.

***

Winter comes and with it word that Morgana has decided to vacation in Canada. Merlin is pleased that they might finally have time for some proper training but less so with the sulk Arthur now wears on an almost permanent basis.

"Who am I supposed to play with now?" Arthur pokes at an altocumulus desolately.

Merlin spends the rest of his day persuading Mithian to give them a rainbow. He gets two weeks' worth of desk duty for his infraction, but it's worth it to see the smile on Arthur's face.

***

The first day Merlin's allowed back in the field, Arthur greets him with a hug and a perfectly formed nimbostratus.

"I've been practicing," he says, still holding Merlin close.

"I can see that! Soon enough you won't need me at all." His smile is forced but there's truth behind his words.

Apparently Arthur doesn't agree. His clouds turn dark and swell menacingly. Merlin takes a deep breath and braces against the inevitable freezing rain storm that's about to pour down.

"I'll always need you Merlin," Arthur says sincerely.

"Ok." It comes out a bit like a wobbly question but Merlin doesn't know what else say.

Arthur looks at him appraisingly and apparently finds the answer he's looking for.

"I've been practicing something else too."

"Oh?"

Arthur takes a deep breath and guides his flock to encircle them. The last slip of cumulonimbus closes around them and then Arthur's lips are crushing his, wet and hot and full of want. Merlin gives way easily and soon they're a mess of hands and tongues and clouds.

"I didn't know, ah, clouds could be, mmmmm, used like this."

"Shut up Merlin."

–-----------------------------------

43.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** none

There was a smash of glass - probably something expensive - and a high-pitched shriek.

“Arthur Pendragon, you are the worst boyfriend ever!” His girlfriend Vivian screamed.

That sounded about right. All of Arthur’s relationships ended with blood, tears, and property damage. 

Merlin walked out into the kitchen and prepared himself some tea. He dodged more flying glassware as he walked back to his room. 

“That was my grandfather’s antique vase!”

Definitely expensive, Merlin thought.

“I asked for two carat diamonds, Arthur! And you give me this _cheap_ one carat necklace? What am I trailer trash?” Vivian screamed as Merlin shut his door.

Who could have foreseen the ill-advised relationship with the obvious gold digger ending like this. Merlin pointed at himself. Merlin and everyone else had warned Arthur about Vivian, but he had refused to listen. 

Merlin sat down on his bed and enjoyed his cup of tea. About five minutes after the shrieking stopped and Merlin heard the door slam, Arthur was at his door.

Merlin shook his head and looked at his watch. “This is a record, even for you, Arthur. Five minutes and you’re already at my door.”

Arthur didn’t say anything as he closed the door behind him and sauntered over to Merlin.

Merlin got up on his knees and waved his hands in front of him. “No more, Arthur. My bed is now an Arthur free zone.”

Arthur just grinned and gave Merlin a sexy grin, which would normally have Merlin’s pants off quicker than you could say “rebound” but not any longer. 

“I mean it, Arthur. I’m not going to be your bed warmer in between relationships.” Even Merlin could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

Arthur got up on the bed and knee-walked toward Merlin. He grabbed Merlin’s hips and pressed him their groins together. 

Merlin’s eyes fluttered as he felt Arthur’s erection against him.

This had been going on for a long time. The first time it happened was two weeks after Gwen had ended things with Arthur. Arthur was devastated and Merlin had just been trying to offer some comfort. Somehow that comfort included his hand stuffed down Arthur’s crotch and eventual mutual handjobs.

After things with Mithian ended, it took one week before Arthur and Merlin were giving each other blowjobs. Then after the particularly destructive ending with Sophia, it took only one day before Arthur was riding Merlin and giving him the best orgasm of his life.

It seemed the shorter his relationship, the shorter Arthur’s mourning period.

Arthur started to nibble on Merlin’s neck and Merlin almost gave in. He exposed his neck further and put his arms around Arthur’s waist. But when Arthur reached for the hem of Merlin’s shirt, he pulled back. “No.” He hit Arthur square in the chest with the palms of his hands. “I mean it.”

Arthur finally turned serious and jumped off the bed. “What’s wrong, Merlin?”

Merlin trailed his hands through his hair. “Arthur, I don’t know why you feel the need to be in relationships, even when you’re not in one, but I can’t do it anymore. I want something real.”

Arthur sighed and leaned back against the bedroom door. “I want that too, Merlin.” He hung his head. “I think about what my parents had and want that, too. That’s why I’m looking for someone to love.”

Merlin burst out laughing.

Arthur looked at him with shock and then rising anger. 

Merlin covered his mouth. “I’m so sorry. But open your eyes, Arthur. Did you really think you’d find everlasting love with _Vivian_?” Merlin got up and walked toward Arthur. “You deserve real love, Arthur. I just think when you find it, you’ll be too blind to see it.”

Arthur and Merlin stared at each other. After a second, Arthur blinked slowly and opened the door hesitantly and walked out while still staring at Merlin.

Merlin sighed deeply and shut the door, banging his head against it repeatedly.

~*~

They didn’t speak the next few days. Arthur would leave in the morning and Merlin would deliberately hide in his room. When Arthur would come home, Merlin would either go to work or hide out at Will’s flat. 

A week after their fight, Merlin heard a knock on the door in the middle of the afternoon. When he opened the door, he was shocked to see Arthur standing on the other side.

“Arthur, what are you doing? Did you lose your-”

“I’m ready to open my eyes now, Merlin.” He looked adorably nervous. “Would you care to join me for dinner?”

Merlin smiled slowly. He grabbed Arthur and hauled him inside. Dinner happened...eventually.

–---------------------------------------

44.

 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** none  
When Merlin Emrys took the stand, a hush fell over the entire hemicycle. The usual buzzing of parliamentary activity came to an abrupt halt. 

"Magic is a tool.” Emrys said, “The people that wield it can serve their community and earn a living using their innate gifts."

He paused at the word 'innate'. Government still hadn't taken an official stance on the origins of magic despite scientific proof.

"Those that choose to abuse it are no more or less accountable for their actions than non-magic criminals picking up a gun or knife."

Arthur watched his father in the corner of his eye. He was already signalling to Aredian, the party’s personal ‘witchfinder’. 

Arthur needed to get to Emrys first.

"You must be insane talking about magic like that." Arthur said by way of introduction when he found Merlin in one of the backrooms. 

"Hi, I’m Merlin Emrys,” Merlin said in response, smiling and offering to shake his hand.

Arthur ignored it. “Listen. They’re not going to let you leave the building. Aredian will try to get to you. Follow me. I will get you out of here.”

Merlin simply nodded, suddenly serious. He followed Arthur to his car. Driver Lance, didn’t ask any questions and they both got quickly inside. Security would never dream to look inside of Arthur Pendragon’s limousine. 

“Prince Arthur,” Merlin started, when they were well on their way, “Son of Uther Pendragon, worst Prime Minister us magic folk have ever known. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Arthur felt anger rising. The nickname, he'd heard often enough before, but Emrys outing himself as a wizard with such carelessness! 

“You…” Arthur didn’t know where to start, “You shouldn’t just admit you’re a sorcerer!”

Merlin looked up innocently. 

"Those people back there, they have all the power in the world to take you apart," Arthur continued.

Merlin simply smiled again. "I can protect myself."

Arthur's eyebrow quirked up. “I hope that’s true.”

“I know I don't need it against you." Merlin continued, in a softer voice.  
Arthur looked up sharply at that. It was one thing to know about his public life. But could Merlin really know about the role Arthur was playing in protecting his half-sister and her protégé, Mordred?

“Do you have a safe place to stay?” Arthur asked instead.

“Not exactly somewhere a government car can just drop by,” Merlin answered. 

"You're coming up then?” Arthur asked when they’d reached his block. 

"What else am I going to do?" But Merlin didn't sound resigned.

It didn't sink in that he was taking Merlin up to his apartment, as if he was bringing him home after a date. Until the moment they stepped into the lift. Suddenly it felt as if the air was sucked from the tiny space they were in. When he looked up to see if Merlin was similarly affected, he ended up being pressed against the lift mirror with Merlin fiercely kissing him.

It took a moment to process what was happening. Unsurprisingly his body and instincts were a lot quicker to react than his brain was. Feeling the hard length of Merlin’s cock pressed against his, he realized he had gotten painfully hard as well. He returned the kiss, a little helplessly, on hand flinging to Merlin’s dark, messy hair and another pulling him even closer still. 

By the time they’d stumbled out of the lift and into Arthur’s penthouse flat, Merlin’s hand was already well into Arthur’s boxers and returning the favour, Arthur had managed to unbutton and unzip Merlin’s trousers. 

Too desperate to get naked, Arthur didn’t even stop to show Merlin the bedroom. Instead the fell onto the couch undressing in a frenzy of movement. 

It felt as if they had done it a million times. They fell into an easy rhythm; Merlin riding him, their bodies fitting perfectly together. Looking up into Merlin’s eyes, it seemed as if there was something familiar about them. Like coming home after a long journey. 

They did reach the bedroom eventually. Despite both being in a pleasant state of post-orgasmic bliss, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Exploring every bit of Merlin’s body seemed a matter as urgent as life or death. 

When they were finally sated, Arthur nuzzled Merlin’s neck, spooning him.

“Don’t go back to the hemicycle. You’ll get yourself killed.” Arthur murmured into Merlin’s skin when they were on the verge of falling asleep. 

“I have to go back,” Merlin said quietly, “until the day someone stands up with me.”

Arthur kissed Merlin softly on the lips. A promise. 

–--------------------

45.

 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** none

It's a completely unremarkable Saturday in October, but in a quiet London bookshop Arthur knows what is coming. Time is drawing closer, sucking in the seconds until the clock strikes twelve, and there's the expected knock on his door before the last chime has even faded in the silence of the room. 

Trying to calm his fluttering heart, Arthur takes another sip of his tea and the knock turns impatient, the urgency of his caller apparent. When he pulls the door open, Merlin stumbles into his arms, his long black coat tightly wrapped around him, and Arthur sucks in a sharp breath.

''You look awful,'' he frowns, trying to hide his worry, which earns him a heated glare.

''Fuck you, Arthur, it hurts, okay? You know it hurts!''

Arthur studies him with trepidation. He _does_ know that the need hurts Merlin - so much more and differently than it hurts Arthur - but it seems worse this time. Merlin's eyes are red rimmed, his skin even paler than usual and he's shaking. 

''Would you... like some tea?'' Arthur asks hesitantly, but Merlin only grimaces.

''No. If you don't mind, I'd just like to fuck.''

Arthur nods and beckons Merlin to follow him up the stairs. He has a bed, even though he doesn't sleep much, and Arthur stands next to it now, his back turned, as he slips out of his shoes and takes off his cuff links. Then he realises Merlin is still lingering in the door, nervously shifting on his feet, and raises a questioning eyebrow at him. Merlin huffs and steps inside, shrugging off his coat before he hesitantly pulls his shirt over his head.

Arthur's eyes widen when he sees Merlin's whole body muddled with green and blue and angry stripes of red. He's next to him in a heartbeat, reaching out to touch Merlin's skin, which elicits a relieved sigh. 

''What happened?'' Arthur croaks, his throat feeling constricted. He shouldn't care, he knows, but he can't help it.

''Got found out,'' Merlin shrugs. ''My Lord's not happy with the company I keep.''

Arthur doesn't know what to say. Theirs has always been a unique situation, and there's no solution – it's just what it is. A connection that keeps pulling them together in a vicious cycle which they can't escape. He lets his hands glide over Merlin's skin, gently stroking over his abused flesh, letting the bruises fade until they are hardly more than memory.

''You shouldn't do that,'' Merlin reminds him with a weak smile. ''You're not supposed to use your powers on someone like me.''

''I'm supposed to use them to ease people's suffering, and that's what I'm doing.''

''I'm not people,'' Merlin says softly and Arthur kisses him, because, no, Merlin isn't, but he's still his other half and it hurts to see him in so much pain.

Merlin sighs into his mouth and then his long nimble fingers open the buttons of Arthur's shirt and hurriedly tug at his fly. He shimmies out of his own jeans with a few wiggles of his arse and Arthur pulls him closer with a moan. 

It's not the same for him. Their separation doesn't hurt him like Merlin, _His_ presence sees to that. But being with Merlin, touching him, is still the only time that Arthur feels truly complete. It always makes him wonder whether he, too, is close to falling, teetering on the brink of the abyss, Merlin like a weight that's pulling him down.

They stumble to the bed and stretch out on the cool sheets, both of them naked now, and just giving in to the need. Soon, Merlin rides him with the abandon of a martyr, a sinner turned saint, and so beautiful Arthur can hardly look at him. 

When he tightens around him on the brink of pleasure, Merlin's wings break forth, spreading out like midnight and reaching up to the heavens in a helpless cry. Arthur sits up and wraps his arms around his brother, the other half of his soul, pushing into him and desperately seeking the unity that should always be theirs. His own wings unfold with his release, bright like the first snow of winter, emitting the light of _His_ grace just like Merlin's swallow it up into their velvet depths. 

Arthur looks up into the blue eyes of his partner, tinged with the fire of his new Lord, and presses a kiss to his forehead. It's a secret benediction, a mark to sooth the painful longing - until it turns too great and Merlin will come knocking again. Merlin's lips curve into a beautiful smile then. It's angelic, and completely inappropriate for the demon he's become.

–---------------------------------------

46.

 

 **Pairing:** Gwen/various  
 **Warnings:** none

Gwen knows it’s more of a closet than a proper cycle shop, but it’s hers: she carved out the space for it with her own hands and sweat and tears, and it holds a universe for her. The neighbors stare at her grease-stained breeches and unbound breasts, but Gwen’s grown used to that. She collects and classifies the looks she catches -- and sometimes, when she’s lucky, she has a chance to follow up and make good on them, tune a little something more than an engine and its gears.

Lancelot comes every fall, regular as clockwork. He has his cycle worked over, and then he works Gwen over in turn, leaving her lazily satisfied as he pulls his goggles on and takes off again across the sands. Morgana’s a more frequent visitor. She sweeps in with the best an airship empire can buy and slides the cloth from Gwen’s hair before her engine’s off, digging her fingers deep into Gwen’s curls before finding other, better places to explore. She leaves Gwen perfumed with sex, the lingering smell of Morgana’s cunt rubbed deep into her skin. Merlin brings her his crotchety dragon of a cycle every other week: the old thing is always puffing and snorting, six inches from the grave. She tries to convince him to take her up on the offer of a newer model, but he refuses. Gwen understands. It’s a magnificent creature, an adventure to work on, cogs and wrenches spread around her as she coaxes its old frame into new life. Merlin’s an adventure, too, when he finishes stammering and gets his clothes off, gets his knees and ass dirty on the floor of her workshop. 

There are others, of course. Gwen’s a prosperous mechanic, enough that she can afford her dalliances and be choosy with them. She looks for the spark in their eyes, the way Freya’s do when she sees Gwen in the leather jacket she’d handsewn with charms; the way they moan, as Mithian does when Gwen wears her riding boots to bed and nothing else; the way they unwind her as eagerly as Gwaine when his head is between her thighs. She’s prosperous enough to entertain Arthur himself, mayor though he is. His bike is gorgeous: old and beautifully cared-for, and it roars under her when he lets her drive, just as he roars when she rides him instead.

Arthur would offer marriage in a heartbeat, if she would let him. It would be tempting, but Gwen takes too much solace in the quiet nights she spends alone in her shop, her hands slipped not into someone else’s but into her own machine -- the one she loves, her first; the one that loves her back as hard as any cycle can. She would have to give it up, were she the mayor’s wife: a cycle like this would hardly be dignified. Free as she is, she can ride it west of Hell and back, trading her breeches for her best riding skirt, with no one the wiser to the alterations she’s made.

The cycle is her own design, developed to fit her needs exactly. With her skirts spread, there’s no one to see that the gears which turn the wheels also slide a slim rod through the seat inside her, a far more satisfying fuck than any of her talented lovers. Her neighbors waving to her as she zooms by have no idea that as she waves back, a small contraption is vibrating with the motion of the engine _just so_ between her legs as the cycle fucks her open, shifting with her body until she reaches the long open highway outside of town and she can open the throttle fully, hair and skirts streaming out behind her triumphantly as she lets go to scream into the wind. 

–--------------------------------------

47.

 **Pairings** Morgana/Arthur  
 **Warnings** incest, sex while menstruating 

 

She only goes to him when she’s bleeding. 

The first morning of the month, when she wakes up with something wet between her legs, she slides her hand down her body, lightly touching herself. When her fingers come back red, she sighs in relief and her waiting is over. 

She slips from her chambers and quickly makes her way down the hall. She slips quietly into the next room and quickly into the bed, wrapping herself around the sleeping figure.

She accidentally brushes her feet against his leg and he startles into wakefulness.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Want you,” she moans, rutting up against him.

“Oh?” he questions. Then again in a moan, “Oh!” he cries as she takes his hardening cock in her hand and starts stroking. 

She slides out of her nightgown and slots herself against his side, wrapping her leg over one of his strong legs, still relaxed and warm with sleep. She kisses along his neck, biting down lightly as she continues to stroke him into full hardness.

“I’m not still dreaming, am I?” he asks, dazed. “You’re really here, right?”

“Yes,” she whispers against his clavicles. “Yes, it’s time.”

He makes an appreciative noise as she pulls his nightshirt up over his head and then presses their chests together. He reaches down and hooks a finger under her chin, raising her face to capture her lips in the first kiss they’ve shared in a month. It’s desperate and deep and dirty and everything she’s been wanting. 

She straddles his lap rocking her hips back and forth and feeling his cock slide against her thighs. She loves looking down at him like this: hair wild, eyes fuzzy with desire. She wishes she could always look at him from this angle. 

He reaches up and grabs handfuls of her breasts at the same time as she guides his cock into her. He moans and pinches her nipples as she slides down, filling herself fully. 

“You feel so good inside me,” she says, lifting herself back up and lowing herself again. 

“You feel so good,” he corrects, thrusting up his hips to meet her. “Want you all the time.”

“I know,” she says sadly. “I know.”

She leans down and licks into his mouth, pressing all the love and want and desire she has into him. She rocks back and forth, gripping his shoulders tightly for leverage, moaning into his mouth as his cock finds that special place inside of her. 

She leans back as she feels her orgasm build inside of her, letting her hair fall down her back as she arches up. He grabs her by the waist and thrusts harder, faster, almost erratically into her and then he’s tensing up and they both scrabbling at each other, desperately kissing through their orgasms. 

She presses her forehead against his as they catch their breath, and smiles down at him. 

“That was perfect,” she says, punctuating her praise with a light kiss. 

She pulls herself off and ignores the mess of come and blood that drips down her legs and falls onto his crotch. It doesn’t both either of them – they know that this is the only way.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she promises as she wraps herself in her dressing gown and she moves to the door.

“Morgana, I–“ he says, holding out a hand as if to stop her. She turns back to look at him, but he’s already accepted things. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

Morgana rushes back to her own chambers and throws herself back into her bed. She can still feel where he held her; still feel his seed dripping between her legs. 

“Arthur,” she gasps into her pillow, touching herself. Oh, the things we could be if you weren’t my brother.

–------------------------

48.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** everything about tantric sex, I learned from a rather dodgy website

“I don’t like this.” Arthur struggled to get his foot up over his knee, though why anyone thought this was a good position for meditation (or anything else) was beyond him. He yanked his ankle up and added for emphasis, “I really don’t like this.”

Merlin, of course, was already in a perfect lotus position, eyes closed in serene contemplation. He cracked one eye open at Arthur. “Then why do you keep coming?”

Arthur harrumphed and closed his own eyes. They both knew why. He kept coming because—well, he wasn’t sure he ever actually stopped coming after the last session.

“Welcome, everyone!” The instructor (Arthur refused to call him a guru, on account that he was white and annoying) entered the room. “Welcome to Cycle 6, the final cycle of your love and ecstasy training. Today we’ll be celebrating the Tantric keys that will allow you to release your taboos and limiting beliefs and fully access a transcendent state of pleasure.”

Rolling his eyes while his eyelids were shut proved difficult and not very satisfying, but Arthur did it on principle. “What a tool,” he muttered, and was heartened by Merlin’s muffled snort of laughter.

A moment later a hand fell onto Arthur’s shoulder. He opened his eyes to find the smiling face of their instructor (Greg, or Gavin, or Gwahir, or something like that) hovering in front of him like a long-haired, bearded hippy Cheshire Cat.

“Arthur, Merlin, let’s start with you,” he said. “Are you ready to shed your emotional armor and give yourself over wholly to the love of your partner?”

“You betcha,” Merlin chirped. 

Arthur sighed. “You betcha,” he echoed through gritted teeth. What did Garth know about the love of his partner, anyway? He’d loved Merlin since he’d pushed him into the sandbox when they were five. Merlin had got up and promptly sat on him in revenge, and that had been that, Arthur’s heart gone with no returns. 

“Right, then let’s begin with our breathing. Take each other’s hands and concentrate on breathing together. Use your breath to cycle the energy through your body and into the body of your lover.”

Despite Arthur’s disdain for the new age theatrics, Merlin’s palms sparked against his with an energy that went straight down Arthur’s spine. This is what Arthur came for (and from).

Merlin’s eyes, when Arthur could really focus on them, were that kind of intense blue that made him feel like he was soaring, freefalling with a net or chute. Or plunging—yes, that was more accurate. Plunging deeper into a warm sea that surged around him in unconditional welcome.

Much like Merlin’s body welcomed him, when their sexual energy become a self-sustaining cycle and Gustav quietly instructed that it was time to undress. 

He settled Merlin in his lap, settled himself inside Merlin, and breathed. The knot of pleasure in his groin expanded as they rocked together, until it coursed through his veins and arteries, pervaded every cell of his body, enveloped every thought, and soon extinguished thought altogether.

When they were like this, Arthur knew who he was. Who he had been, through all the turns of the ages that had come before. Who he could be, joined with Merlin.

He breathed over Merlin’s lips and laughed into his mouth with a giddy understanding that zinged through his mind (would be gone when he tried to remember it later). The ecstasy had nothing to do with Gilbert and his tantric mantras—it was Merlin, ever and always Merlin and the magic that shivered through him, as greedy for Arthur as he was for it.

Eventually, he started to come.

But it didn’t matter. Like always, it was just the beginning.

–------------------------------------

49.

 

 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings**

In summer, he cut his hair.

Like the man of practicality, he tired of brushing the fringe from his brow all day. You thought that, perhaps, it did not look too bad. It was easier to wash and he would wipe soap on your face, wetting your shirt and pulling your neckerchief. His skin was tan and freckled, his lips a sunburnt cherry. His muscles carved deeper into his skin and you would trace the ridges on his stomach, taut from constant use.

He and summer were born for each other; no one could ripen beneath the warm sun and inspire a kingdom like he. You wondered if your magic was capable of stopping time perpetually, a grassy field at his feet, a smile just for you. You rolled around with him, flattening flowers and frightening bees, tickles and laughs like touches and gasps. 

As the sun glinted from his skin and his chest rose and fell, you thought that there was nothing more perfect in the world than your king in summertime.

In fall, he gave you his mother’s ring.

He made your wear it on a chain beneath your clothes, a silent weight upon your skin. Time moved slowly and you wished your magic had acted sooner, had paused earlier before. Orange and red painted the city and his glow was smoldered, burning from within without the heat of a fire. His movements were more relaxed, his cup flowed more freely. He encouraged you to take a break, his grin tense like a happy day that preceded unending night. A terrible grief masked by joyless laughter.

He would lie beside you at night and whisper about the future he had planned, of the world that was yet to be. He asked you if you would swear fealty to him and the kingdom, to serve him for the rest of his rule. He asked you if you would wear his ring one day and make him the happiest man that ever could be. You could only smile and nod your head as your eyes burned behind their lids, the fragment of your heart incapable of breaking any further for all that could have been.

 

In winter, he went away.

Like the creatures in the woods and the wildlings of the earth, he laid himself to rest for a spell. Snow blanketed the world and hid away the lake beneath a glass. The castle was quiet and the walls grew thick with age and grime. It was cold and barren and things had changed too quickly for you to continue, too much to fit in the hollow between your bones.

You thought that everyone who followed was little more than an expelling of breath, a withered leaf fallen from its branch. No more uncommon or painful than the blink of an eye. A field of green had browned and faded, a lifetime of bliss entombed in a tear drop. The sun was dim and the world was as mute as a broken lyre, cut strings strangled of sound. You wondered if it was possible to disappear into the trees, to simply cease to exist.

In spring, he is born anew.

Like the flowers from the earth and the stars in the sky, so too does he arise. His speech is funny and he struggles to escape his rusted trappings. He mentions that it is you who must cut their hair and you do not respond, your lips sewn shut. He cannot understand you anyway. But he smiles and places his hands on his hips, surveying the foreign land from which he came. A king as always, it seems.

He reaches for you and pulls you close, hugging you in a way that does not need words to understand. His kiss is sweet and short and he brushes your tears away, straightening your shoulders and chiding you for it. He is here, he reminds you. The time is now. He puts his arm around your shoulders, replacing the other at his hip, and points out the buds that have bloomed, the world that has woken. It was a long winter but spring has come and there is much to see, he says. Yes, you say, there is still much to see.

–-----------------------------------------------------

50.

 **Pairings** Gwen/Morgana  
 **Warnings** power imbalance (mistress/servant)

On Morgana's eighteenth birthday Uther bought her a brand new Singer VS1 sewing machine, for which she thanked him sweetly before turning it over to her maid, along with three pairs of her brother's trousers. "He owes me these," she explained, "because of all the things he gets for having been born with a prick. You'll make the adjustments, won't you, Gwen?"

"Of course, Mistress."

Sure enough, at Arthur's next birthday he, being a boy, was given the penny-farthing Morgana wanted and deserved. She watched him tip over the enormous front wheel and, while he was recovering, took it out for a spin.

"That," she told Gwen, with her face flushed, her legs shaking and her groin throbbing, "is the most fun I've had since I figured out a second use for my hairbrush."

Gwen looked down – her usual charming modestly, Morgana thought, before realising she was in fact studying the bicycle's design. "It's no wonder people fall, with the pedals so hard to reach. And it obviously wasn't made for those of us who wear skirts."

"Well, there's no reason we should have to wear skirts," Morgana said smugly, thinking of the admiring glances she'd received from the likes of Elena Gawant and Mithian Nemeth since she'd started wearing Gwen's well tailored outfits.

"They ought to move them back so you'd have better leverage," said Gwen. Use gears to make the movement more powerful. My brother's a railroad mechanic, did you know? We were talking about it last Sunday, comparing the gears on a locomotive to the ones in your sewing machine. Now _that's_ a marvelous invention! The vibrating shuttle moves much more smoothly than the old oscillating model. Would you like to see?"

Morgana frowned. She'd never had any use for vibrating or oscillating shuttles before, and certainly not for sewing. Then again, she'd also never thought to wonder whether Gwen had a brother, or would like to ride a bicycle, or cared how machines worked. She'd never even stopped to notice before how very pretty Gwen's face was, especially with her eyes lit up as they were now. All at once Elena and Mithian were the last thing on Morgana's mind.

The shuttle, it turned out, was a steel shell in the shape of a bullet, somewhat smaller than her finger. "The thread goes in the bobbin, here," Gwen demonstrated, "and then into the machine. And when I pedal the treadle, like this, it moves in an _arc_ , while the needle goes up and down. Ingenious, isn't it?"

Gwen had been working the mechanism as slowly as possible in order to help Morgana understand, but now she sped it up, till soon the shuttle and needle were moving faster than Morgana's eyes could follow, one bright shining blur, and the whole cabinet began to vibrate. Morgana set her hands on Gwen's shoulders and waited for maid and machine to still.

"I've been thinking," said Gwen, pulling out the shuttle again and standing up to face Morgana, "what if this piece weren't buried inside? What if you still could pedal to move it, just as fast, but only a tiny distance? Every time you touched it would be… like a train rolling by!"

Morgana fingered the tiny cock in Gwen's hand. "You wouldn't want it bigger?"

Gwen shook her head. "I've never wanted that, anything to go inside me like… like some girls do." She lowered both their hands and the shuttle to her crotch, and pressed. "I just want the pressure, and –"

"The movement," said Morgana, backing Gwen up against the wall. Gwen clutched at Morgana's arm. "Shall I stop?" Morgana said quickly

"No!" Gwen cried. "But I want –" She lifted up her skirts and pulled Morgana's hand inside her drawers.

Morgana kissed Gwen's mouth and let her fingers trace back along the wet seam. Her thumb held the shuttle in place, squeezed with a few layers of cloth between Morgana's raised leg and Gwen's clitoris. Gwen wrapped her arms around Morgana's neck and Morgana leant in, whispering, "When my come into my inheritance I'll build you a factory," as she began to thrust against her. "You can make anything you want."

"I'll build you a _much_ better bicycle," Gwen promised.

Morgana smiled and sped up the motion of her leg till she was all but shuddering into Gwen. "In the meantime I'll just ride you."

She'd never had such faith in the future as when Gwen shuddered and came in her hand.

–------------------------------------------

51.

 

 **Pairings** Merlin/ Arthur  
 **Warnings** alcohol abuse issues 

“I promise, I’ll be good I promise!” Merlin cries. 

The pleads are heart-rending but Arthur stands his ground. “No, Merlin, it’s for your own good,” Arthur says, and upturns the bottle over the sink. 

Merlin sobs loudly, like Arthur is the one doing something wrong. 

Arthur doesn’t know who is more tortured here. He wishes Hunith and Balinor were still around. 

***

When things are good, they seem almost normal. 

Merlin rides Arthur. He’s flushed and gorgeous, his lean body grinding down enthusiastically. Arthur cries out in pleasure despite himself, lost in Merlin’s tight heat and wet kisses. 

Merlin groans and moans, louder and louder until he shoves his butt all the way down, and keeps it there as his hole clenches and Arthur’s dick pulses. 

Merlin lies on him, sated and happy. Arthur looks at him in this rare moment of peace and his heart aches. 

***

Gwen is on the line. “You mustn’t blame yourself,” she says. Her voice is tinny over the connection all the way from South America or wherever she and Lance are. 

“Yeah, well,” Arthur says. What is there to say? 

That if Merlin really loved him, he’d stop? 

That of course it was his fault Merlin was in this state? 

That if only he’d been more supportive, if he’d stopped Merlin from taking “just a glass to calm my nerves” after the funeral, Arthur could have stopped it? 

“Yeah,” Arthur says again. 

***

Merlin holds Arthur's hand at the cocktail reception. Arthur knows they make a stunning pair, ebony and ivory, the very image of the golden couple. They only see Uther once, when they first step into the hotel ballroom. 

"Merlin!" Giaus says, and hugs both of them. "I haven't seen you since the last company do!" 

Merlin laughs and jokes with Giaus, then with Gili, and Mithian. As always, people flock towards him, and linger for the easy conversation and the warmth that Merlin radiates. 

Once or twice, Arthur has to excuse himself, if only to hide momentarily from the charming presence of his boyfriend. It's too painful. When did Merlin get to be as good as Arthur in faking? 

***

 

Merlin arrives home in the early hours of the morning, clothes rumpled and stinking. There is a bruise on his cheek. Arthur has given up waiting for him. Given up asking where he’s been. Merlin wouldn’t be able to remember anyway.

Arthur wishes he could forget too, but he doesn’t have the same luxury as Merlin. 

***

“Maybe you should get some help too,” Morgana says. Arthur had to tell her so she could help hide it from Uther. 

“Me? Why me?” Arthur says. Merlin is the one who’s sick. Arthur is already so busy juggling his job, his dad, his life “outside” when Merlin was doing his programme. The last thing Arthur felt like was doing one more thing “to help him”; that very thought turned Arthur’s stomach. If he really loved Merlin, he’d do what it took right? 

***

Merlin kisses Arthur, all tongue and spit. Arthur endures it for as long as he can, then pulls away. 

"Bye, dear, see you tonight. Pasta for dinner!" Merlin says. Behind him, the flat sparkles, the result of Merlin's sudden burst of cleaning last night. 

It's not the flat that Arthur wants to see clean. He is in a foul mood all the way to the office. 

***

Merlin has switched to vodka now; it’s colourless and odourless. In contrast, Merlin’s promises have become more florid and impassioned. Two steps forwards and three steps back. 

Arthur looks at the bookmark and feels like screaming. 

_“God grant me the serenity to accept the_  
things I cannot change,  
the courage to change the things I can  
and the wisdom to know the difference.” 

***

It’s like living with two people. Arthur still sees that intelligent, funny, fun to be with, thoughtful, kind and gentle man that attracted him and broke through his walls. He knows that when Merlin is gone, he becomes selfish, devious, thoughtless; Arthur knows all this, but still loves him. 

Arthur’s lost track of the number of Merlin’s “recoveries”. It feels like a never-ending hell.

–------------------------------------------------

52.

 **Pairings:** Arthur/Merlin... kinda?  
 **Warnings:** None.

Arthur was splayed out on his bed, arse on top of a pillow and one of his hands around the base of his cock squeezing to stave off his orgasm. His other hand twisted the vibrator inside him, his muscles twitched around it as the ridges brushed over his prostate and a load of precome oozed out of his hard cock despite the hand wrapped firmly around the base. He moaned and pressed the button on the vibrator and the vibrations changed to a pulsation that was three hard and quick vibrations followed by a longer one. Arthur loved the way the vibrator could be programmed to cycle through different vibration settings on it own. It made the ludicrous amount of money he'd spent on the damn thing almost worth it. 

A minute later the vibration changed on its own to a buzz-pause-buzz of vibration and Arthur's hips involuntarily pushed themselves up slightly with every hum of the vibrator until it changed vibration again. There it was, the setting that made Arthur see stars because it almost felt like someone was pushing into him erratically occasional pulses that seemed to have no rhyme or reason to them. Arthur let go of his cock as he pulled out the vibrator and pushed it in as far as it would go and arched off the bed as he screamed out his pleasure.

"Fuck," Arthur cursed when he came down from his orgasm and his arse crashed back down on the pillow forcing the vibrator even deeper inside him. He reached for the vibrator to pull it out of his ass but his fingers skirted against his asshole instead. Arthur's eyes widened as he placed his thumb and forefinger inside himself and tried to pull out the vibrator. He only succeeded in pushing it in even further.

Arthur decided to let it be for a bit and tried to relax his muscles but the relaxation was ruined by the vibrator going through it's cycles and pressing against Arthur's prostate with enough vibrations to have him arching his back up.

Arthur sighed as he realized that there was no way out of this and he needed to call on Merlin in order to get the vibrator out of his ass. Arthur reached for his phone.

_How annoyed would you be if I needed medical attention right now? -AP_

_Pretty damn annoyed. Why? What did you do? -ME_

_I... uh... It's not important? I'll get someone else to take care of it. -AP_

_Oh fuck right off. Just tell me what's happening, Arthur. -ME_

_I got a vibrator stuck in my ass... okay? -AP_

_Oh. Uh... -ME_

_First of all... flared bases only for anal play. -ME_

_Second of all... take a bath and let me know in a half an hour if it doesn't slip right out. -ME_

Arthur looks at his phone for a minute before walking into the bathroom and running the water so that he'll have a nice hot bath. He sighs as he sits in the water and leans his back against the tub's edge.

Half an hour later and nothing has changed. His ass is still gripping against the vibrator.

_Uh... the bath didn't help. -AP_

_Well, shit. -ME_

_How much do you trust me? -ME_

_Implicitly. Why? -AP_

_Because I'm going to need to pull it out of your ass manually, Arthur. -ME_

–---------------------------------------

53.

 **Pairings** Freya/Vivian  
 **Warnings** public sex

There’s a lady in the fountain 

Vivian sees her sometimes, outside in the courtyard. She doesn’t take any of the mountains of coins, glittering in the shallow water of the pool. She doesn’t swim in it. Instead the lady folds herself neatly on top of the white plaster boar shooting jets of water from its tusks and sits. Waiting.

Vivian sometimes thinks she looks up to where Vivian watches her, peeking through a crack in the curtains. It’s silly, she knows. 

Still. 

*  
 _I wish…_

Vivian sits on the edge of the fountain, heels in hand, and massages her feet. The subway was an overheated crush of sweaty bodies the way it always gets in summer. She forgot her flats at the office and even her trusty kitten heels are killing her today. 

“I love your shoes,” says a voice from the fountain. Vivian turns and there she stands, face mild despite the fact that she’s soaked, and her white dress is doing very little to preserve her modesty. “They look like they hurt though. I‘ve found if soak your feet in here sometimes it helps.”

Vivian looks down at the lady’s bare feet. “Won’t security chase us out?”

“They’d have to catch me first,” she says, a sly grin turning up the corners of her mouth. 

Vivian laughs. The water is blessedly cool. 

*  
 _I wish…_

“I don’t think I gave you my name, or thanked you for the tip,” Vivian tells the lady. “I’m Vivian, I live in apartment 3B.” 

Vivian also spent most of the day at the office trying to remember what color her eyes were, what sound she’d made when she laughed. 

“I’m Freya,” she says, giving Vivian subtle elevator eyes. Vivian preens a little. She’d cleaned up before coming down today, lipstick firmly water resistant and hair done up, though already curling where it’s damp.

Vivian hikes up her skirt and climbs in. She shivers a little, and produces the bottle of wine she’d kept even after the engagement had broken. 

“Fancy adding to your list of misdemeanors?”

“I could think of worse ways to spend and evening,” says Freya and pops the cork. 

They pass the bottle between them, talking until the sun sinks and the air turns cold. Vivian’s lying half-in half-out of the water, drunk, drenched and happier than she’s been in months. 

“I’ve always wanted to sleep on a huge pile of money,” she murmurs into Freya’s ear as Freya pours her out of the pool. 

“It’s not just money, it’s people’s wishes.” 

“Wishing doesn’t change shit.” Vivian stumbles to her feet. Freya’s close enough to kiss, if she dared. 

She doesn’t. 

*  
 _I wish…_

Dinner is minute rice and sad chicken, company is the eight o’clock news anchor. 

Vivian is going to scream. 

The wedding invitation lies untouched on the counter. (Fuck Arthur, fuck all of them, for knowing and saying nothing. But fuck Arthur in particular for sending it anyway.)

The lights in the fountain are on. They cast deep shadows over the figures dancing, so that Freya only resolves out of the darkness when Vivian is standing right at the rim of the pool, shaking. 

“Vivian?” Freya puts a cool hand to her elbow, guides Vivian into the water. 

The edges of the coins dig into her feet, sharp reminders of the wishes she’s stepping on. The spray curls around them. Welcomes them in. 

Freya pulls her into a wet embrace. Vivian leans down and lets her head rest on Freya’s shoulder. Freya’s tiny enough Vivian could probably wrap her arms around her twice. The white noise of the fountain and the warmth of Freya wrapped around her are like a balm to a wound she didn’t realize was gaping.

Freya kisses Vivian’s hair, her neck. Vivian can feel the soft curves of her body through the practically transparent dress. All Vivian has to say is, _“Freya, please, I want-”_ and Freya’s hands turn soothing to seeking. 

She backs Vivian up against the ugly plaster boar, kissin a wet line down to her breasts, tugging at Vivian’s shirt. Vivian kisses her harder, deeper, Freya’s hands up her skirt to where she’s pulsing and wet. Vivian kisses the water off her skin, the metallic taste heavy on her tongue. Freya coaxes her thighs apart, wets her with her tongue until she’s burning in the water, stars blooming behind her eyelids.

*  
 _I wish…_

There are two ladies in the fountain. 

–-----------------------------------

54.

 **Pairings:** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings:** Underage

“Lock your door at night,” his mother always said, “or else the Big Bad Wolf will come take you away.”

The Big Bad Wolf was a human tale, but the wolves (like Merlin) knew it too, if a bit differently. The Big Bad Wolf took omega children in the night if they didn't lock their doors. He ate alpha children who mated without asking consent. And even the Big Bad Wolf was killed by a human, so it should be known to never, ever cross one.

As a child, Merlin would stay up at night, terrified, thinking that every noise at his window was the Wolf come to take him away. Then, as he got older, he saw the Wolf for the tale it was, and he took it far too lightly for his mother's liking.

So when Merlin was sixteen, and his mother left him alone in their cabin to go visit her brother in the town nearby, she told him, as always, “Lock the door at night.” 

And as always, Merlin nodded.

But he forgot to lock the door.

The day his mother left had been unnaturally hot, so much that even after dusk Merlin's pale skin was flushed and burning and slick with sweat. He thought that it was the waxing moon getting to him. The full moon was just two days away, and his body was already restless with it, impatient to change and run and howl. 

After nightfall he opened the door and windows in his little cabin, desperate to let in the cool night air, and he writhed irritably in his bed for hours until the restless energy in his body gained a warm, desperate pulse of want. His cock hardened and throbbed between his legs, and sweetly fragrant slick dripped down the backs of his thighs. He tried to ease the ache in the ways he knew how, but no matter how much he pulled his reddening cock or how many fingers he pushed into his slick, dripping hole, he couldn't come. It wasn't _enough._

A low, rumbling growl came from the door.

Merlin froze his ministrations, and his heart hammered with fear as he realized the figure in his doorway. It was a wolf. A giant, blonde wolf. _The Big Bad Wolf,_ come to take Merlin away.

The night breeze pushed in, brushing over the wolf's fur, and Merlin groaned. Alpha. His body's heat flared, singing to Merlin. _Alpha. Alpha will take care of him. Alpha will fix this. Alpha._ Merlin opened his thighs almost thoughtlessly in invitation.

The wolf stalked forward. 

Merlin's breath came in small pants, and his heart was painfully fast. He shook all over with fear and anticipation and need. When the wolf's muzzle grazed his thigh, Merlin whimpered. When a long, wet tongue lapped at his fingers, teasing the rim of his slick hole, he moaned so loudly that it was almost a desperate scream. He removed his fingers, and the wolf greedily took over, lapping up Merlin's juices, and tongue pushing in and in. Merlin curled his knees to his chest, moaning louder and louder.

The wolf slowly licked up the inside of Merlin's thigh before nipping the tender flesh and growling. Merlin peered at the wolf in dazed confusion, earning him another nip and a sideways nudge from the wolf's muzzle. 

_Turn over._

Merlin bit his lip nervously and obeyed. He trembled as he waited to feel the brush of fur as the wolf mounted him, but it never came. Instead he felt calloused hands spreading his cheeks, and a large, _human_ cock starting to push in him. Merlin tilted his head, catching just a glimpse of blonde hair and heavily scarred body. The man was older than Merlin, and he was calm and sure as he started to rut into Merlin's wet and aching hole.

“A-Ah!” Merlin scrambled. It was too much, not enough, what he needed, _too much._

The man growled and bared down over Merlin's back, pinning him in place and rutting, harder and harder. Merlin cried out with every thrust, sobbing with the feel of _so good, too much, so good, **more**_

A warm kiss pressed into the nape of Merlin's shoulder, a promise of a marking bite to come, just as the man's knot swelled inside him. Merlin rocked back against the pressure and choked on a broken moan as he finally, _finally_ came. 

The mating bite was barely felt under the wave of his pleasure and relief. 

–---------------------------------------------

55.

 **Pairings:** Gwaine/Gwen  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Title:** My whole life is a delicate cycle

From: Morgana  
To: Gwen  
Subject: HOT LAUNDRY GUY

Spill

From: Gwen  
To: Morgana  
Subject: Re: HOT LAUNDRY GUY

Seriously? Nothing to tell. 

From: Morgana  
To: Gwen  
Subject: Re: Re: HOT LAUNDRY GUY

Lies. He was hot and into you. I saw you blush.

From: Gwen  
To: Morgana  
Subject: Re: Re: HOT LAUNDRY GUY

I'm ignoring you to do work now

 

Gwen sighed as she clicked send. There hadn't been anything between her and the guy in the laundry. He had been a flirt, no doubt about it, but nothing more than that. Morgana had been with her – they had been revising together and Gwen didn't want to get too distracted.

~~~

Gwen hummed to herself as she pulled her clothes out of the dryer and folded them. They were warm and she had to resist the urge to wrap herself up in them. 

“Oh, hello again,” Gwen jumped and turned around. 

“Christ, you scared me,” she gasped. It was hot guy (she needed to stop calling him that). 

“Sorry,” he replied, smiling at her. “I'd say we must stop meeting like this, but I'd rather we didn't stop meeting.” 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Gwen replied. “Do those lines work?” 

“Not really,” Gwaine admitted. “But they make you laugh, so they're achieving something.”

~~~

It became a thing, Gwen and Gwaine meeting in the laundry. Morgana teasing her about it. 

~~~

Gwaine's beard was rough against her cheek as he kissed her neck. She let out a shuddery breath as Gwaine scraped his teeth against her neck. He lifted her up on top of the the whirring dryer, and she scooted her skirt up and her pants off, trying not to think about the door being unlocked. 

“Its late,” Gwaine whispered as he rolled a condom on. 

Gwen giggled and wrapped her arms around Gwaine's neck, kissing him. She felt naughty, cunt wet and tingly already and Gwaine wasn't even inside her yet.

The first push of Gwaine inside her made her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders.

“You ok?” Gwaine asked, shakily. Gwen smiled and shook her head.

“Keep going,” she said, arching her back.

Gwaine swore and thrust, head falling forward. Gwen ran a hand through his hair, bunching it in her hand. 

Gwen murmured under her breath as Gwaine thrust into her, pleasure sparking up her spine. The machine kicked into high speed and she giggled as the vibrations started to go through her. 

“Good?”

“Good,” Gwen replied, clenching around Gwaine.

“Fuck fuck,” Gwaine said, thrusting harder. Gwen made a high-pitched noise as she came, arching her neck back. Gwaine grunted and stilled as he came.

He groaned as pulled out, leaning against the machine and pulling the condom off. He put it in the bin and started to pull his trousers back on. 

Gwen pulled her skirt down, panting.

“Bed next time,” Gwaine commented, kissing her. Gwen nodded and kissed him again. 

 

~~~

Gwen got back to her room, flushed and still a bit shuddery. She booted up her computer, still grinning. Her computer beeped to signal a new email.

From: Morgana  
To: Gwen  
Subject: WHENS THE WEDDING

I'll need to buy a hat. 

 

–---------------------------------------------------

56.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur  
 **Warnings** Dub con.

He's heard these beings come screaming into the world because they remember, just for a minute before the amnesia kicks in, the diverse and profound suffering they may face.  
Just for a moment, he's almost jealous of the ugly pink lump. Immortals like himself will know no other realm than this, but then, he thinks, neither will this squalling babe.  
He slips away through the shadows of the hospital corridor, just as he has slipped from bedchamber, barn, basement, and boudoir innumerable times before. Not yet, he thinks. Mothers, he has learned, are formidable forces not to be trifled with.

*

There are monsters in his closet, he can hear them. Tentacles wait under the bed to grab his feet, and if the blankets slip off in the middle of the night he'll be bitten by pixies.  
But worst of all are the cold shadows that slip by in the corner of his eyes.

*

The boy holds a séance in his basement not long after his fourteenth birthday.  
It's tempting to laugh. It's even more tempting to respond. He can't help feeling curious; never over the many years has the boy been so bold.  
Days later, when the blonde child stirs restlessly in his sleep, leans over from his perch on the dresser, and runs one pale finger down the warm cheek. He lets their eyes meet before slipping out into the night.

*

Arthur is nineteen when finally he is able to confront his demon. His actual, real life, demon.  
The monsters and the childish fears he grew out of, but never the shadows. The shadows are always there, in the corner of his eye. He thinks he sees a figure, sometimes, but never enough to be sure of himself. So when he sees those luminous orange eyes again, staring down at him in the dark, he gathers his courage, and speaks before the shadow can disappear.

“What are you?”

The creature steps into the light, revealing skin and hair the colour of the midnight sky, unnaturally high cheekbones, and unblinking, reptilian eyes of fiery orange.

“I am an angel.”

“You don't look anything like an angel.”

The man just grins a grin of pointed teeth.

“So you're my guardian angel?”

“We watch over the life cycles of mortals. I am the giver of life, and the bringer of death.”  
Arthur takes small step back, and the creature's grin grows wider.

“Does everyone have a...” Arthur gestures at the man,

“No.”

“Just those who are good?”

“There is no good and evil. It is an invention of man, and even he cannot define it.”

“Oh.”

Arthur isn't sure what he thinks of that. The demon-angel is drifting closer, slowly but surely, like some unrelenting force of nature, eyes never wavering from his own.

“You are the saviour, destined to be reborn until there is no womb to be born from.”

“And then you die?”

“I will continue on until I see the stars fade.”

Arthur feels his back bump up against the wall, not having realised he was retreating.

“I need sustenance.” the creature purrs. Arthur screws up his eyes and tries to melt into the wall.

He gasps in surprise when a cool hand unzips his jeans and slips into his boxers.

“You mean...?” He asks the man, who gives him a wicked but almost human smirk, and pulls his jeans to his knees.

The coolness of the hand is in stark contrast to the heat rising in Arthur's lower stomach. The creature seems to instinctively know what Arthur wants, but he's teasing, running a single finger repeatedly up the underside of Arthur's cock, until he's groaning, trembling, and harder than he thinks he's ever been in his life.

Then, when he's about to take matters into his own hands, the shadowy man drops to his knees, and Arthur stares openly as he fits his inky lips over flushed flesh, orange eyes still somehow unwavering.

Arthur's vision goes hazy as the world crumbles around him.

*

Both sat on the floor, panting, Arthur looks at the man; his eyes are blown and dazed, and somehow softer.

“What are you? Really?”

“I was once a mortal like you.”

“What happened?”

“You died.”  
–---------------------------------

57.

 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** none

Litter tended to turn up in both the most expected and ludicrous of places. Knowing that, it was each and every person’s most important responsibility to seek out the trash cluttering up their planet, to stop the systematic degradation of nature that was taking place day by day, right before their very eyes! What type of world do you want your children to live in? A filthy, diseased planet or a thriving, healthy one?  
At least, this was the speech Arthur was supposed to give people as he handed out ‘Recycle, Reuse, Renew’ and ‘Save the Planet’ flyers. He did want to help the environment and make a difference. Honestly, he did, but if, while making that difference, it happened to drive Uther mental that his son was one of those ‘damned tree-hugging hippie bastards’ that was just a happy coincidence.  
Arthur was going on his merry way after successfully delivering his monologue to a newly married couple, when he caught sight of him. The cheeky bastard that Arthur swore only took walks to have the opportunity to antagonize Arthur twice a week.  
Not knowing his name led to Arthur labeling him ‘prattish guy’ in his head. Which was an apt description.  
Prattish guy was currently sucking on a lollipop, and playing with the wrapper in his other hand.  
He looked up, catching Arthur’s glare, and while staring him straight in the eye, tossed the wrapper over his shoulder in the general direction of a trash can. Which he missed by a mile.  
Arthur ground his teeth, and looked away. If it were any other bloke, he wouldn’t give a damn! Arthur wasn’t that anal about the environment that he thought picking up one loli wrapper would help overly much.  
Taking a deep breath, Arthur got in his car, which was nearly covered in ‘Go Green!’ and ‘Make Peace not War’ bumper stickers, and drove away, all the while applauding himself for his self control. The door only slammed because there’d been a sudden gust of wind.  
And he absolutely did not turn to look at the prat, who was flat out laughing at him.  
\------  
It was a Saturday evening, about two weeks later, when Arthur finally spoke to the prat. He had handed out flyers every Tuesday and Thursday for the last month, he'd constantly been there, throwing trash on the ground, uncaringly passing litter on the street, and smirking at Arthur all the while.  
He should’ve gone up to the guy the first time, but by now it was clear that the prat was trying to provoke Arthur, who _was not_ going to let him win!  
But that Saturday at the Save the Planet rally prattish guy actually showed up and had the nerve to brag loudly about all he did for the planet, how much he’d recycled in the last six months, and how much all that mattered to him.  
Arthur was furiously sipping his punch and death glaring at his stupid big ears that were not at all endearing, and at his stupid black floofy hair that was not attractive.  
It was just generally not a good night for Arthur. He’d overheard the prat introduce himself as Merlin Emrys, what with how loud he was talking, so he knew his name. But Arthur thought prat suited him better.  
He had turned to go, fed up with the whole thing, when he saw a little plaque under the main sign reading ‘Sponsored by Emrys Environmental Foundation’.  
Arthur did a double take. Seriously? Then why would he be littering? Arthur’s eyes searched for the object of his curiosity, and he saw Merlin bending over to pick up a discarded paper cup from the ground. Arthur’s eyes stayed glued to his arse, which was very nice, so it was highly embaressing when the prat-Merlin came striding over to him.  
“Well damn. I guess the jig is up now. You wouldn’t happen to still be interested, would you?” Merlin asked, tilting his head a bit and grinning like a true idiot.  
Arthur gaped at him. He knew he’d been flirting a bit, but did this guy have to be so…blunt about it?  
“…Maybe,” Arthur muttered sullenly.  
\-------

Hours later and Merlin was riding Arthur’s cock like he was made for it, not letting Arthur have control for a second, just moving his hips in these tight circles and panting, holding Arthur still with his thighs and just taking his own pleasure.  
It was excruciatingly slow paced, and soon Arthur was moaning Merlin's name and begging him to please god, just go faster.  
"I don't know," Merlin mused in between gasping breaths, "that's a lot of effort to put in for a maybe." He pushed his hips down particularly hard on the last word, and Arthur gasped in pleasure even as he rolled his eyes. "Just fuck me Merlin, and maybe you can get a yes."  
"Oh you'll be screaming yes in a minute," Merlin promised. And damn that prat, he was right. 

–----------------------

58.

 **Pairing** : Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** : Implied past canonical character death, possible dubcon

Arthur wakes up.

Gwen’s fingers run through the water, the sleeve of her fine gown drenched. Her hair is streaked with white, and deep lines map history on her face. Arthur tries to reach for her but can't feel his hands. She has done a lot of frowning.

+++

Arthur wakes up.

There is nothing. For hours that might be days that might be years, the world is black and cold and there is no air.

+++

Arthur wakes up.

Morgana is weeping, her face pressed against a pretty, dark-haired woman’s breast. He strains to understand what Morgana is saying. In the end, he realises she’s just repeating, “I did this,” over and over as the girl he doesn’t recognise runs fingers through Morgana’s hair.

Arthur tries to say her name, but his tongue won’t move.

+++

Arthur wakes up.

Merlin’s face is a blur for a moment, just the black of his hair and the sharpness of his chin, the curve of his smiling mouth—unmistakable even through Arthur’s cloudy vision.

Arthur can’t quite catch his breath; his lungs feel tired. He realises Merlin is talking and tries to hold a hand up, to tell him to slow down, but his muscles don’t work.

All at once, Arthur remembers what it’s like to feel when Merlin’s hand finds his chest, one warm spot in the immense cold that eats at him. The heat spreads, fills him solid through, and this time when he tries to reach out a hand, he catches Merlin’s shoulder, which feels remarkably strong and not at all how Arthur remembers him.

“Sire,” Merlin says on an inhale, and Arthur misses the laugh that’s supposed to lurk behind the title. Merlin’s eyes have become too serious.

It doesn’t feel wrong when Merlin presses his lips to Arthur’s forehead. It feels absolutely _right_ when Merlin’s tongue finds its way into Arthur’s mouth, wet and desperate. Arthur feels like he’s been hard for ages, like he’s been aching for the heat of Merlin’s body longer than he’s been alive.

He’s not wearing clothes, and soon, neither is Merlin. Everything is Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin_ as Arthur’s cock is clutched inside Merlin’s arse, wrapped in the finest velvet known to man.

Arthur’s neck is wet. When he turns his head to find Merlin’s lips, he sees that Merlin is crying.

“Are you hurt?” Arthur says, and his voice is hardly a whisper.

Merlin takes Arthur’s hand and holds it to his chest, over his heart, and Arthur understands; _in here_ , he means. He doesn’t know why Merlin is so sad, but he wants to make him feel better. After Arthur comes, spending himself into Merlin’s greedy body, he gets his mouth around Merlin’s cock, sucks him until he’s crying in ecstasy instead.

Merlin offers Arthur his water skin, and Arthur recoils in terror. He never wants to see water again, and he doesn’t understand why.

They play in the woods, and Merlin puts on a magic show, knights and dragons battling in the palm of his hand.

Arthur starts to remember. He remembers Gwen in her ceremonial gown, hair long under her crown. He remembers his knights, sparring in the grass, their shirts cast off and skin red from exertion and the sun. He remembers Morgana, hair matted and skin sallow, the anger in her voice.

“Where are they?” Arthur says, and Merlin kisses him.

Arthur thinks he should grieve, should push Merlin away, but he doesn’t. Merlin’s eyes are gold and heavy with tears, and Arthur almost understands what’s happening, but that knowledge leaves him, too, until all that’s left is fresh air and sunshine and Merlin’s skin.

They fuck again, harder this time, full of something Arthur can’t name because Merlin has taken it from him, is keeping him safe. Merlin comes hard, arse clenching sweet and painful around Arthur’s cock, and his come splatters across Arthur’s belly.

After Arthur comes, Merlin collapses onto his chest, boneless and sticky. Arthur feels sad for a moment, and then feels nothing but contentment.

“Maybe you can stay,” Merlin says into Arthur’s neck, voice fragile.

“I will,” Arthur promises, though he doesn’t know what it means.

It’s a perfect day.

+++

Arthur wakes up.

–-----------------------------------------

59.

Gwen walked towards the door but before she could knock it opened.

"Hello there. You must be my new maid,” she said with a soft, gentle smile. “I’m, Princess Morgana."

"Hello my lady. My name is Gwen. "

~*~

"My lady," Gwen whimpered,” I must tend to my duties."

Morgana looked up from between her legs with Gwen’s juice smeared all over her face. The sight made her blush. "Your duty is to please me, Gwen.”

She had a protest in mind but it faded when Morgana went back to licking her cunt.

"B-But I have laundry to - ah!"

Gwen’s train of thought was interrupted when Morgana started pumping two fingers in and out of her.

"Tell me, Gwen. Do you wish to tend to my laundry or do you want to come?" Morgana whispered, her breath brushing against her throbbing clit.

Gwen knew her answer immediately.

"I want to come my lady!"

Morgana smiled.

~*~

‘Goodbye Gwen,’ Morgana mouthed weakly from her death bed.

Gwen held back a sob. “Goodbye, Princess. May we meet again, my lady.”

She then took her last breath.

~*~

The jazz music traveled from the club and out onto the street. It spurred a moment of curiosity in Gwen which encouraged her to dart inside. In her haste to get through the door she bumped into another woman with short bobbed hair and a body clothed in a loose dress that bared her shoulders and neckline.

It was a sight that Gwen tried not to blatantly stare at but she had never been face to face with such a girl before.

“I apologize-“

“No need,” the woman interrupted before extending her hand. “Morgana Pendragon, and you are?”

“Gwen Jones.”

Morgana winked. “Welcome to the party, Ms. Jones.”

~*~

Gwen threw her head back and moaned as Morgana worried her nipple between her teeth. She released the nipple only to take the other one into her mouth and tease it into hardness.

“Morgana, please!”

Morgana released her nipple and drew Gwen into a passionate kiss.

“I’m so glad you could make it to my party again, Gwen,” Morgana whispered as she broke the kiss. “I was disappointed when you missed the last one.”

She could say nothing because at that exact moment, Morgana had dropped to her knees and hiked up her skirt. Two fingers slipped inside her wet slit which brought out a loud moan.

The tongue on her clit was her undoing.

~*~

“I’m getting married, Morgana.”

It was the last thing she said to Morgana before she killed herself.

“Goodbye, Morgana,” she wept at her grave. “May, we meet again.”

~*~

Gwen shifted uncomfortably in the cell. She regretted getting arrested during the protests at her campus but she also felt proud for speaking her mind about the war.

Still, when her father found out-

“What are you in for?”

The voice came from the cell across from her and interrupted her train of thought.

“Protesting on school grounds.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” she laughed. “What’s your name? I’m Morgana Pendragon.”

If Gwen squinted she could safely say the same thing. “Gwen Jones.”

“Nice to meet you, Gwen.”

~*~

The protest was broken up by police but they managed to get away. Once in her room, Gwen leaned against the wall in order to catch her breath.

“We almost got caught again, Morgana.”

“I know, but we didn’t.”

It was Gwen who initiated the kiss this time. She pushed the other woman onto the bed and kissed her deeply. It wasn’t long before she was running her hands down Morgana’s body. She could never keep her hands off Morgana for long.

She slipped her fingers into her jeans and pressed her fingers against the crotch of her panties which were damp.

The touch was teasing and light at first but then Morgana forced her leg between her own. She gently but firmly ground her knee against Gwen’s cunt. It prompted her to stop teasing Morgana and push her fingers inside.

"Make me come, Gwen." Morgana whispered as Gwen practically humped against her leg.

Gwen was more than happy to oblige.

~*~

Gwen clutched the picture of Morgana to her chest and sobbed. The police had opened fire and Morgana was the first shot.

"Good bye Morgana. May we meet again."

–------------------------------

60.

 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** Dodgy science.

Merlin had been feeling cosy and warm at last, thinking about a nap, peacefully floating along, when he was rudely shaken.

“For the eleventh time, I am not a parasite!”

“That’s not what your ID says,” said the cell and shoved another receptor at him, prodding him again in search of a matching ligand. 

“Excuse me!” Merlin said, trying to maintain some dignity. Macrophages, honestly. Always so snotty and superior. Even if this one had a particularly nice round shape, and looked sort of shiny.

It was vibrating with suspicion. “There’s something about you. I can’t quite put my receptor on it.” 

“Ah, well, I’m not from around here. I usually hang around the, uh, little toe, you’ve probably never been, it’s really small and pretty far away and cramped. Anyway, just visiting some family,” Merlin lied and put on his best I’m-a-cell-that-belongs-in-this-body look. He wasn’t a parasite, honest, he just wanted a comfortable place to call home. Or anyplace to call home, really.

“Merlin!” he suddenly heard from across the plasma.

“Gaius?” He rushed forward in disbelief. 

“Arthur, please, this is my nephew. You must join us for the race, Merlin!”

“Hmph,” said Arthur. Merlin was too busy pressing himself fondly to Gaius to notice. Clearly, he’d managed to disguise himself, as well. And here Merlin had thought he’d never see his favourite speck of dust again. 

“Hmph,” said Arthur again, with feeling, at the display.

*

“Wheeee,” said Merlin, riding the Main Artery Current of the left arm. 

When he saw Arthur spin around nearby, between some other white blood cells, he only hesitated for a second before sailing right into him with a smack. Served him right. 

“Hey! You can’t treat me like this. A little respect!” 

But Merlin was laughing as he was quickly swept away. “What, don’t like it when you’re not the bully?” 

*

Arthur cornered him the next day. “ID!”

“You know I don’t have one. That’s just how it is, you know, down in the Little Toe. But you can call me Merlin.”

“I don’t trust you, _Merlin_. I’m not letting you out of my sight. If you put one protein out of line…”

“What, you’re going to lock me in a cell?”

“…”

“I’ll be here all week, bring a tip next time.” Merlin floated away smugly, leaving Arthur to glare after him.

*

“You know, I’m starting to think you fancy me,” Merlin said as Arthur patted him down with one of his receptors for the twenty-third time in as many days, repeating the same cycle.

“What,” said Arthur. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just doing my job. I’ll have you know I’m very good at my job! That I do every day! I’m very thorough.”

“Yes, I can feel that. I don’t think I have any secrets left, you know.”

“You’re a mystery. And I intend to unravel you, Merlin.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound untoward at all. Unravel me, Arthur!” he added in a breathy tone before laughing. “Though I can live with being mysterious. After all, I’m already tall, dark and handsome, right?”

“… I have no idea why I put up with you.”

“Yes, because I’m the one who’s following you around everywhere.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first, so there.”

“Hah.”

“…”

“See you tomorrow, I suppose?”

“Seven o’clock sharp, don’t be late!”

Merlin snorted as he swam away, Arthur gently floating after him.

*

“… Oh,” said Arthur, quietly.

“Oh,” Merlin echoed, as Arthur’s receptor locked on. “Two hundred and thirty-fourth time lucky?”

“You lied.” He wasn’t supposed to sound so devastated.

“I’m sorry. I would never hurt you or anyone else, though, I swear.”

“It’s my job. It’s… I have to lock you in a cell.” 

“…”

“I’m the cell, Merlin,” he said, sadly, before squeezing close.

And, _oh_. There was a tingly feeling all along Merlin’s outer layer. It was electrifying. Merlin hadn’t expected dying to feel like this. Arthur was enveloping him more and more, sucking him in, and Merlin felt warm everywhere, in a way he didn’t know was possible. He could feel Arthur pulsing against him. 

Then Arthur was all around him. After a while, the tingling dissipated to a comfortable heat. It felt like coming home. 

*

“Aren’t you supposed to digest me?” Merlin asked eventually.

“Aren’t you supposed to shut up? I’m not hungry right now. And you’re kind of heavy.”

Judging by the shudder that ran through Arthur, Merlin rather thought he felt a different kind of hunger.

“Besides, you can’t do any harm from here. And you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“All right,” Merlin said, just this once, and had a nap, finally home.

–-----------------------------------------

61.

 **Pairings** Gwaine/Morgana, Morgana/Sophia, Mithian/Morgana, hinted Gwen/Morgana, background/hinted Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** None 

 

Morgana prowls the club. She wants strong hands, strong thighs, a rough voice: one that can order her around, push her down, and fuck her. 

It's uncommon, but not entirely unusual. Her body burns, craving written into every pore. 

She finds a guy, big and strong and quiet, with rough hands that span her waist. He's got a gentle voice, though, and treats her like she's made of glass. He leaves with a delicate wisp of a girl, and Morgana doesn't feel upset about that. 

The next guy is subtle with hidden depths, and plays her body just right, if it were another time. She wants rough manhandling, not masochistic pleasure. She watches him charm her brother with a smirk and a laugh, those blue eyes not shy about making demands. Arthur won't join her at the club again, but she's not too concerned.

She settles eventually, goes home with a guy who isn't as strong as she'd like, but listens when she says she wants him to fuck her. He pulls her hair, spanks her, and bites her nipples. It's fun, it's rough, and it gets her out of her head.

"Thanks for the good time," Gwaine says the following morning. He presses a kiss to her cheek and leaves with a smile. 

-

A month or so later and she prowls again. Gwaine smiles at her, raises an eyebrow, and Morgana shakes her head. Gwaine was perfect - for what she wanted that week. This week, she wants something different. 

She wants a girl, soft and sweet beneath her hands. A girl Morgana can worship, can bite angry marks into the tender curve of her breast, and can consume until she's full. 

Sophia is haughty and demanding, but when Morgana has her hands tied to her bedposts, she moans and begs ever so sweetly. She tastes divine, and Morgana relishes the pleasure, both Sophia's and her own. 

\- 

Another few weeks and Morgana stays home, curls into Gwen with hot chocolate and a silly movie on the telly. It's comforting, a release of a different sort, and Gwen even offers a backrub. Morgana doesn't take her up on it, happy to just cuddle. No one cuddles quite like Gwen. It's the best when she laughs, truly laughs, and Morgana can feel her entire body vibrate. 

It's in one of those full body laughs of Gwen, when she's shaking with giggles, that Morgana blurts out, "I think something's wrong with me."

Morgana can feel Gwen freeze, but it's only for a moment and then she's relaxing back into Morgana while grabbing the remote and turning off the movie. 

"What do you mean?" Gwen asks. She rubs her hands up and down Morgana's back, and Morgana is thankful the room is mostly dark, because she can feel tears welling in her eyes.

"I always want different things for sex. All the time. It can't just be sex. And it's so rare when I do want it. I'm not romantically interested in anyone, just... I want sex."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting sex," Gwen tells her, "nothing wrong with wanting kinky sex, or different types of sex, and only wanting it sometimes."

"But-"

"I'm not done," Gwen interrupts. "Really, there's nothing wrong with it. You're safe, right? And don't promise your partners more than you can deliver?" She waits for Morgana's nod, then continues. "You might be asexual, or aromantic, or both? Or something else. There's a website, I'll send you the link tomorrow."

The knowledge that there's something she can ascribe to this, possibly people who understand - it's like a breath of fresh air, and she can't stop the tears from running over. Gwen holds her close while she cries silently, and when she's finished, she takes Gwen up on that offer of a backrub. 

-

Six weeks later, and she's back to the club. She wants wild and rough again, wicked pleasure and soothing pain. She passes up Gwaine again, refuses to look at Percy, and goes home with a girl, dark-haired and dark-eyed, who whispers sweet things with a smile that promises destruction. 

Mithian's smile doesn't lie. She takes Morgana apart, piece by piece, until Morgana's out of her head. She patches Morgana up, enough for her to return home before morning, and fall into Gwen's soft, soothing hands.

\-----------------------------------

62

.

 **Pairings** Merlin/Arthur

 **Warnings** can be interpreted as slight power imbalance

**TUESDAY—001**

Arthur stares at the ceiling and smiles. Smiles until he’s laughing, until he has a sleepy, confused Merlin glare at him from the pillow next to him. Laughs until he cries, then kisses Merlin between his sobs.

And holds him—holds him tight.

**MONDAY—306**

“Stay,” Arthur says. “Please, Merlin. Please stay.”

He’s so tired, so _fucking_ tired and—in love. Arthur just—he wants Merlin to remember his favourite colour, and the way Arthur made him laugh on the way to the hotel. He wants Merlin to raise his head from his book in the morning and smile at him with recognition in his eyes. He wants habit in the way Merlin touches him. He wants Merlin to know exactly what he’s doing when he sucks on Arthur’s cockhead while pushing fingers inside of him.

Merlin sits on the edge of the bed, looks down at Arthur, and frowns. “You’re strange,” he says, but slides under the covers anyway.

**MONDAY—281**

“Are you sure?” Gwaine asks Arthur with a worried look. “I mean maybe there’s someone else or—”

“No. It’s him. There’s—There can’t be—No.”

**MONDAY—254**

Merlin smiles wide when Arthur slides _Slaughterhouse-five_ across the table one morning and says, “I liked this one better,” and sits to introduce himself.

Arthur doesn’t even think about fucking him.

**MONDAY—206**

Merlin likes it messy. Likes saliva and come and lube all over his body and between his thighs. Likes to come on Arthur’s face and lick it clean after, shameless with it. And Arthur—Arthur likes giving it all to him, lets himself be roughed up and taken apart.

“Stay,” he says after.

“Another day, maybe.” Merlin stands by the door.

Arthur wants to cry.

**MONDAY—168**

Arthur goes to Ealdor’s library and sits with _The Time Machine_ , then makes his way through all of Wells’ novels.

He’s got time.

**MONDAY—167**

“Let’s pretend what you say is true,” Merlin says as he puts his trousers on then crawls over Arthur. He drags his fingers over the still-warm wet mess on Arthur’s stomach, and Arthur twitches, moans when Merlin sucks on his fingers.

His cock makes a valiant effort to get back in the game. Merlin grins like he knows. 

Fuck. _Fuck_. Arthur might just be a bit in love.

Merlin licks Arthur’s ear before whispering, “Make me stay, then.”

**MONDAY—149**

“Okay, Gwaine says. “Say I believe you.” Arthur groans and hits his head on the table. “Hey, I’m indulging you here, mate.”

“You always do.”

“You should tell him. You know how the guy likes to be sucked. What makes him come and beg and moan like a pornstar. But for him, he’s just met you. You’re a stranger. You should tell him.

**MONDAY—079**

“Shit.”

**MONDAY—078**

Arthur’s never had his mouth fucked before.

Now that it’s full of cock—Merlin’s fingers tight in his hair, holding his head still while tears cling to his eyelashes every time he pushes far enough to choke Arthur a little—he can’t remember why not.

When tomorrow _finally_ comes, he’s going to find out what else he’s been missing on.

**MONDAY—062**

“Okay,” Gwaine says. “Say I believe you.”

“The waitress will drop a plate in 5 seconds,” Arthur says, then waits for the crash. Of fucking course it happens.

“Say I believe you,” Gwaine repeats. “Why him?” He points toward the window booth and Arthur doesn’t have to look to know who’s there: Merlin, reading _The Time Machine_ , drinking shitty coffee with too much sugar.

“He’s the only one that—” Arthur says. “Every morning I say the same thing to him, _the same_ , and sometimes… _sometimes_ his answer just… changes.”

Gwaine’s silent for a moment. “Well,” he says, eventually. “There are worse things than having to shag that bloke.”

**MONDAY—033**

It takes him a very long time to stop panicking.

**MONDAY—001**

They walk by the diner on their way to the motel. It’s early morning and Ealdor smells fresh from the night’s rain. There’s a good looking bloke sitting in a booth by the window reading a book: dark hair, sharp cheekbones and full lips, with long white fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee. Arthur stops and stares. A little.

“Wanna go say hi?” Gwaine says putting his chin over Arthur’s shoulder. “We don’t have to leave now.”

Arthur looks at the bloke, then pushes at Gwaine’s face with his hand.

“Nah,” he says, and starts walking again, “let’s just get out of this shithole.” He turns around one more time to check the bloke out before crossing the street. “There’ll be other ones.”


	4. Group D (with warnings)

63.

 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** Just a little nod to certain beloved dinosaur toys.

Captain Pendragon and the ship's engineer find themselves a private moment during the rest of the crew's sleep cycle.... and then Merlin accidentally hits the comm button.

[](http://imgur.com/6SPvA5c)

–-------------------------------

64.

**Pairing(s): Merlin/Arthur**  
 **Warning(s): None**

[](http://imgur.com/hkFV2xS)

The cycles of desire, it circles around the need to _love_ and the need to _consume_

–-------------------------------

65.

 **Pairings** Arthur  
 **Warnings** No Required Warnings

Arthur never misses the spin cycle.

 

[](http://imgur.com/iEWiqcv)

 

–-------------------------------------

66.

 **Pairings:** Arthur/Merlin+Morgana  
 **Warnings:** Possible incest (Canon AU)  
 **Summary:** Every spring, the King of Albion must have the rituals performed by the High Priestess and Emrys himself.

 

[](http://imgur.com/uFfC6Pi)

–------------------------------

67.

 **Pairings:** Merthur  
 **Warnings:** none?

 

[](http://imgur.com/4TtXKqX)

 

–------------------------------------------------

68.

 **Pairings** Arthur/Merlin  
 **Warnings** None

[The Legend of the Oak King and the Holly King](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holly_King_\(archetype\))

 

[](http://imgur.com/rQq2199)

 

–-------------------------------------

69.

 **Pairings:** Merlin /Arthur  
 **Warnings:** None  
 **Love behind the bike shed**

[](http://imgur.com/6wN2hbB)


	5. Group A (no warnings)

1.

It's not like Vivian expected to be turned down when she paused the terrible film Elyan brought over and climbed into his lap, but it still makes her feel kind of giddy when he rakes his hands through her hair, rocks his hips up and kisses her back. The reality is definitely measuring up to the fantasies she'd found herself entertaining, sitting unnecessarily close to him as she had been on her ginormous sofa.

"This all right?" Elyan asks, unbuttoning her dress. Vivian thinks about telling him she could've wriggled out of it after the first few buttons, but the light, careful brush of his fingers feels far better than it has any right to.

She fastens her mouth to the side of his neck instead, scraping her teeth over the skin. Elyan moans, and Vivian didn't think she liked guys being vocal but she bites down again, harder, and the noises she earns make arousal pulse right through her. 

"Oi, you trying to give me a hickey?" Elyan pushes half-heartedly at her chest. "I don't bruise easily, y'know."

Vivian's never one to turn down a challenge, but Elyan pulls his shirt over his head before she can lunge at him again, which is just _cheating_ , because then she's too distracted by his abs to do anything but stare. And grind her hips into his thigh, gripping the muscle of his upper arms to steady herself, of course. Elyan's hand slips into her knickers, and it's not that his jeans had felt bad sliding against her, but rocking against his knuckles, one thick finger moving inside her, is even better.

"I'm so wet," she murmurs, right in his ear. Every other guy she's slept with seemed to be really into that, but not Elyan. He frowns.

"No you're not," he says, pulling his fingers free. "You're bleeding."

"Motherfucker," she hisses, stilling her hips, because he's right. Elyan's hand is stained red, which means her dress and knickers probably are too. "That's not _fair_ , it's a whole fucking week early."

Elyan doesn't push her off him, or make a disgusted face, or even try and wipe his fingers off on something. Instead, he just laughs. "Do you always swear more when you're on your period? Because I have to say I approve."

"I wanted to _fuck_ ," she says, plaintive, which only makes Elyan laugh again. Guys never laugh at anything Vivian says. It's incredibly irritating, as is the way it makes her chest feel all weird and fluttery.

"What," he says, "never had menstrucourse?"

Vivian makes a face. "Gross," she says, and Elyan says, "It's just blood and dead uterus," and Vivian makes another face.

Elyan kisses her nose. "Of course, if you're not comfortable-"

Vivian yanks his face down so they're kissing properly. "I'm comfortable," she growls, shoving at his chest until his head hits the arm of the sofa. "Are _you_?"

Elyan looks up at her, his eyes wide, his jaw slack. "Fuck yeah," he says. "It'd be less messy if I were on top, but I really have no objection to you bleeding all over me."

Part of Vivian is thinking that she can already feel blood trickling down her thigh, probably dripping onto Elyan's chest because of the way she's straddling him, and she should really put a tampon in and change her knickers and maybe shower, too, not necessarily in that order. A far larger part, however, wants to hold Elyan down and fuck him until her - beige crocodile leather, cost a small fortune - sofa looks like a battlefield. 

"Good," she says, and starts to undo his belt.

(After, she'll collapse on top of him, barely mindful of the red lines smeared across his belly, red lines that she put there with every needy thrust of her hips. It'll be enough to send aftershocks jittering through her legs, and Vivian will sigh and Elyan will glance over with this smile on his face which can only be described as fond. 

"Whatever," she'll say, rolling her eyes, "are you going to carry me to the bathroom so we can fuck in the shower or what?")

–--------------

2.

There’s a guy in Merlin’s organic chemistry lecture who has the thighs of a god. Not one of those minor gods either - Merlin’s talking class-A, Adonis-type shit here.

The guy is usually late and sneaks in the back door, inevitably sitting down a couple of rows in front of Merlin, and Merlin spends the rest of the class sneaking looks at him. Merlin assumes he’s late because he obviously rides his bike to uni - he always has a helmet strapped to his backpack and nine times out of ten he’s wearing spandex shorts.

 _Spandex_.

It will be a miracle if Merlin passes chem this semester.

*** 

The professor is rambling about amino acids the first time Merlin talks to him. The guy’s normal seat is taken, and when he ducks in through the back door, he pauses, frowning. And then he looks down the row at Merlin and gestures to the empty seat beside him.

Merlin nods, and looks back to the front, because spandex shorts guy is sitting right next to him, those perfect thighs on full display. 

Afterwards, the guy sticks out his hand.

“I’m Arthur,” he says, and his smile is crooked and his eyes are blue and Merlin is gone.

***

Arthur invites him to his next race, in a kind of hesitating voice that doesn’t fit at all with his usually (overly) confident demeanour.

“Most people don’t find it that interesting,” he admits. “They’d rather go to the footy games. They’re idiots,” he adds a moment later, in much more Arthur fashion.

Merlin rolls his eyes.

“I’ll come but I can’t guarantee I’ll stay awake,” he teases, and Arthur punches his shoulder. 

***

It’s kind of weird - Merlin doesn’t know anything about cycling, really, didn’t even know the university had a velodrome (or that it was even _called_ a velodrome.) Arthur spent a good half an hour explaining individual pursuit to him in the library last week, but Merlin still doesn’t really get it.

It doesn’t matter, though, because Merlin’s eyes are glued to Arthur the entire time. Merlin thought his usual black shorts were good but shit, this is something else. The paper-thin fabric is molded perfectly to Arthur’s body as he steps out and okay, the helmet is kind of weird but those _thighs_. 

He cheers along with the small crowd when Arthur’s announced and then they’re off and - fuck. Arthur is so good - he’s fast and strong and seeing those muscles work is doing terrible, terrible things to Merlin. 

***

Arthur’s coy afterwards, brushing off his time. 

“It was only qualifying,” he says, shrugging. “And I didn’t think my form was very good in the final kilometre.”

He’s standing in front of Merlin, wearing stupid looking leggings and his hair is damp and Merlin can’t help himself.

He tips forward and kisses Arthur, hands clutching the front of his hoodie. Arthur starts, and then he _laughs_ , before he pulls Merlin closer and starts kissing him back.

“Didn’t know my cycling got you hot,” he says, and Merlin can hear the smirk. 

“Spandex,” he says coherently, leaning back in for more of Arthur’s mouth.

***

Arthur is sprawled in the tiny armchair in the corner of Merlin’s room, and Merlin is kneeling between his thighs. He runs his palms up them, over the fabric, pushing them even further apart.

They do nothing to hide Arthur’s erection.

Merlin lowers his head, mouthing slowly at the outline of Arthur’s cock, eyes raised to watch Arthur’s reaction. 

“Fuck,” Arthur says, head thudding back. “You’re a fucking tease.” 

Merlin takes his time, pleased with the accusation, mouthing and sucking until the fabric is soaked, and then peeling the leggings off and resettling between Arthur’s thighs. They feel even better without the barrier - smooth and strong - and his dick is hard and leaking and Merlin can’t wait any longer.

He’s too worked up for it to be the best blowjob he’s ever given, but Arthur doesn’t seem to mind, rocking into his mouth and moaning. Merlin pulls off before Arthur comes, just in time to jerk him off all over Merlin’s chest.

“Your turn,” Arthur says, hauling him up and tipping them onto Merlin’s bed.

It turns out his thighs are exactly as good for rubbing off against as Merlin imagined. 

 

–--------------------------

3.

“You've got to be _joking_ …” Merlin stares, mouth dropping open. “Tell me you're not joking.”

In the distance of grassy field, the inverted teardrop shape of the hot-air balloon slowly inflates.

Arthur grumbles, “If you think over twenty-eight training hours to fly the bloody thing is a—” Merlin's lips cut him off, pressing firmly and clumsily against him, teeth clinking almost painfully into Arthur's. It's not the smoothest kiss achieved in history, but Merlin doubts he cares as Arthur leans fully into him.

“I knew it was gonna be a good anniversary when I saw you in these.” Merlin emphasizes his point, fingers dragging under the hem of Arthur's skin-tight cycling shorts. They're the professional-made ones with sporty red stripes over the black padded-material. Arthur's bum looks like _heaven_ in them.

Arthur's no longer grumbling, expression sour. Merlin's happy to recognize that mad, little grin.

*

They're possibly six hundred feet in altitude, and Merlin feels breathless.

He can't blame it on the view entirely—as spectacular as it is, high above treetops and glimmering surfaces of ponds. But no, he's feeling pleasure from a conflicting source.

Arthur's nomex-gloved hands thumb his bare hips, keeping Merlin upright, steady. He won't question the gloves. Piloting requires fire-resistant safety gloves. Besides, Arthur's tongue draws a hot, spit-wet line over Merlin's cleft, and he can't think with the raw-feeling sensation quivering his thighs.

Merlin keeps his weight forward, not rocking them. He clutches at a rope, biting down a moan as Arthur licks his way inside, gathering saliva and _pushing_ it back against his hole.

Should Arthur be distracted from navigating, kneeling behind Merlin and wanking him off simultaneously? 

Probably not.

Was Merlin going to stop him?

Absolutely _fucking_ not.

“Arthur, oh christ,” Merlin whines out, cheeks flaming brightly. He bows his head, thrusting into Arthur's fingers. They stroke along the foreskin sensitive and damp. 

They float over what appears to be a picnic. The family waving can't see Merlin waist-down or even the top of Arthur's head, small blessings. Nor hear Merlin's wrecked voice. 

 

“You're—nn—daft, _mother of god_ , right there…”

The tongue fucking Merlin slips out, leaving him clenching empty and slick-slimy. Arthur doesn't let up stripping Merlin's cock. 

“I need to check the burner unit,” he says, kissing Merlin's sweating back.

“ _Ar_ thur…”

“Stop whining,” he chides, feeling Merlin wriggle impatiently against his mouth before going completely still.

“Arthur.”

“Merlin, it's only—”

“Arthur, we're going to hit a fucking tree!” Merlin yells, turning his head. 

At the flash of genuine panic in his eyes, Arthur scrambles onto his feet, heading for the propane valve and tugging on ropes.

“Shit!” he curses, Arthur's face paling. “We've gone too low. The wind direction is too strong.”

Merlin hesitates from buttoning up his jeans. 

“Ehm, what… ?” he asks in a soft, distressed breath. Arthur pulls him to the opposite end of the wicker basket, covering Merlin's back and holding him tightly in place.

“Brace yourself, Merlin!”

“ _WHAT_ —!”

It's startlingly fast, and more violent than Merlin expects. Feels like getting whiplash.

He finds himself thrown backwards and rolling, crash-landing on his boyfriend. One of Arthur's gloved hands snatches on the collar of Merlin's band t-shirt, just as Merlin wraps an arm securely around Arthur. With great, dizzying relief, he knows the basket isn't spilling them out. They're not so high up, but even falling at this height—it would be immensely problematic.

“You alright?” Arthur says under him, gazing concerned at Merlin deeply shaken.

“M'fine…” He then asks quietly, tightening his arm to Arthur, “Are you?”

“Think so.”

He heaves up, crawling off Arthur. 

“It's not going to explode, is it?” Merlin says nervously, as Arthur double-checks their equipment and calls an emergency number. The visibly punctured balloon increasingly less and less domed.

“Shut up, Merlin.”

A prickle of anger seizes him. “You're the one supposed to be _piloting_ the damn thing!” Merlin snaps.

Arthur whirls around at him, eyes narrowing to slits.

“I was _busy_ trying to…!” He sputters indignant when Merlin yanks him close, noses brushing. Merlin's fingers greedily roam over the solid curve of Arthur's bum.

“So, how long until the rescue team gets here?” he murmurs into Arthur's jaw, smiling widely at the noticeable shudder.

“An hour…?"

“Plenty of time,” Merlin answers, giddy and red-flushed and working Arthur's hardening cock from his cycling shorts. Plenty of it for a good, _looong_ apology.

–------------------------

4.

 _This time it's for good_ , Merlin thought as he walked down the street, his arms full of clothing he'd grabbed. 

He was exhausted from the shouting and accusations, and from Arthur's final, “Just go then.” 

Merlin tried not to look at Arthur as he left, but he'd caved. What he saw surprised him. Arthur's eyes had stopped looking angry; instead they looked hurt.

But how could Arthur be hurt? 

_You're the one who hides things from me. I've been up front from the start. You know who I am._ Arthur's words echoed in Merlin's mind. 

But did that mean Arthur didn't have to tell his family about Merlin? Why should Merlin bother loving someone who didn't love him back? 

Gwaine raised an eyebrow when Merlin returned to the flat.

“Again?”

“Fuck off,” Merlin muttered as he unceremoniously tossed his clothes into his room.

“You at least get your Hitchcock box set this time?”

“Fuck.”

“I would never tell you how to live your life, but I take it as a character flaw that Princess doesn't like _Rear Window_.”

Merlin slumped down beside Gwaine and didn't respond. 

* * * * * 

That weekend while doing laundry, Merlin realized he'd taken one of Arthur's shirts. 

He tried to sneak back into Arthur's flat on Monday to return it, but Arthur was home. He should have been at work. He was _always_ at work. 

“My DVDs for your shirt,” Merlin said coldly.

They fucked on the sofa that afternoon. Merlin initiated it, but Arthur didn't object. Merlin got Arthur onto his back and rode hard and fast on Arthur's cock. It was raw and dirty, and Merlin hoped the bite he left on Arthur's shoulder lasted for days. 

When Merlin left, he made sure he wasn't forgetting anything else.

* * * * * 

It was three weeks and two days later at Gwen and Leon's party. When Merlin spotted Arthur, he put on a show, grinding against Percival to the heavy beat.

When their eyes met, Arthur spun on his heel and left the room. 

Merlin followed and caught up to him in the dark hallway.

“What was that?” Arthur asked.

“That was dancing.”

“That was grinding. Percival doesn't even like blokes.”

“I was clearly trying to make you jealous!”

Arthur's chest was heaving as though he were out of breath. In one fell swoop, he crowded Merlin against the wall and kissed him like he needed Merlin's breath to survive.

“I don't want you touching anyone else,” Arthur murmured as he pulled back.

“You can't say things like that. You don't have any claim--”

Merlin cut himself off by slamming his lips back on Arthur's. His hands when right for Arthur's belt in a practised move, but Arthur stopped him.

“We should talk.” 

“Talk about what?”

“How you jump to conclusions about everything. How you don't trust me. How you always assume the worst. I'm not Will, you know. I'm never going to be Will.”

Merlin's stomach dropped, heavy with the truth in Arthur's words.

“Well how am I supposed to trust you when you're so ambivalent towards me? I didn't even know Morgana was your sister, and she obviously knew nothing about me. It was humiliating.”

“You think I'm ambivalent? I've turned my life upside down for you. Morgana and I speak once a year with solicitors present. Running into her was a fluke. You're the one who is constantly looking for a way out!” 

“What are you talking about?”

“The last time we had sex, you barely looked at me! You got off my dick and were out of there before you could get your shirt on.” 

“You should have chased me!” 

“You wanted me to?”

“Of course I did.” 

“Oh.”

Then Arthur was back on him. His hands were familiar in all the right places. He let Merlin push him against the wall and pull their cocks out. Merlin wrapped his hand around them both. Arthur added his hand over top. 

They kissed frantically while their hands were busy. Merlin buried his face in Arthur's shoulder to muffle his moan when he came.

“I'll chase you next time,” Arthur said afterwards.

Merlin felt the knot in his stomach loosen and heard the little voice in his head say this time would be different. 

He wanted to believe the lie.

–---------

5.

Arthur looked at himself in the mirror. H was wearing cycling shorts and a tight fitting muscle shirt. Honestly, if this didn't get the attention of his spin class instructor, Merlin, he did not know what would. 

He knew he looked good, the shorts were almost up his arse they were so tight, but yet Merlin was still ignoring him. Arthur knew Merlin liked men and he was pretty sure he had made his intentions clear for weeks. Between asking Merlin for private instructions some weeks from constantly messing up his posture so Merlin would come and fix it, he had to know something was up. Arthur was getting a little desperate, he knew, but Merlin was nice and hot and Arthur could not help himself. 

The shorts were supposed to be his ace in the hole, but had Merlin walked past his exercise bike without so much as a "hello" and Arthur huffed.

After class, pouring with sweat and maybe a little tears, Arthur finally approached Merlin when they were alone. 

"Hey Merlin-"

Merlin sighed and turned around before Arthur could get his sentence out.

"What are you playing at, Pendragon? You come in here with your tiny stripper shorts, I'm surprised you didn't give old Ms. Cleary a heart attack." Merlin glared a little and Arthur nearly swooned. He did grin though.

"You noticed my shorts?" He wiggled his eyebrows and encroached on Merlin's space. Merlin's face was already red from the work out but got redder as Arthur crowded him against a wall. 

"Aliens in space noticed your shorts, Arthur. Get over yourself." But Merlin's words held no real heat. Arthur used his hand to guide Meriln's jaw upwards and finally kissed the man he had been dreaming about for weeks. He was surprised to find Merlin respond so enthusiastically. He grabbed onto Arthur's hair and hoisted himself onto Arthur's hips, wrapping his legs around.

"Goddamn. I've wanted you for ages." Merlin whispered into Arthur's lips. Arthur felt the heat of Merlin's erection against his own and thought he could come just like this. But part of him wanted more. He pulled down his and Merlin's cycling shorts and grasped their erections in one hand. They were both slick with precome and sweat so Arthur did not have any trouble jerking them both off quickly. 

Merlin made the prettiest noises and begged and Arthur thought, for not the first time, that he was perfect. He came on that thought, with his tongue all over Merlin's neck. Merlin came soon after, yelling and biting into Arthur's shoulder. It was the best sort of pain. 

When they were done and cleaned up Merlin popped the band on Arthur's shorts.

"So I guess since you got me, you won't need to wear these to class again." 

Arthur grinned, wrapping his arms around Merlin's waist.

"Are you kidding? The mighty courtship of Merlin Emrys has just begun."

–-------------------

6.

“A washing machine?” Merlin said in horror. “You can't be serious!”

“Entirely serious,” Arthur replied calmly. 

“We don't need one! I remove our blood and dirt and sweat and spunk with a mere flick of my wrist!” 

“I had it installed today.”

Merlin frowned, confused. “Why would we waste time waiting _hours_ for a machine to finish, and then maybe have to fold and iron and... and whatever it is ordinary people _do_ with their laundry?”

“Just listen to yourself,” Arthur said, shaking his head. “We're here to protect the people. You must be able to identify with their lives. Remember when you actually polished my armour and brought me my meals with your very own hands?”

He looked into Merlin's eyes. “I love you dearly, powerful magic and all, but every time the cycle of reincarnation brings me back to you, our lives have become even less mundane. You manage our cooking and cleaning and world surveillance with brazen sorcery.”

“Because it's efficient," Merlin grumbled. "Once the next warlock bent on world destruction shows up – and you know it won't be long – we can't tell his evil minions to wait while the washer finishes, so we'll have clean socks to put on.”

“When the next warlock appears, what we don't want is our neighbours alerting the forces of darkness to our presence. If the Smiths think we're just ordinary blokes doing laundry, they won't be curious about the rumbling din from our place. It's just that troublesome noisy old washer, you know, it's neither you casting thunder-spells to incapacitate hell-hounds, nor me dispatching zombies with Excalibur.” 

He nudged Merlin gently. “You never know which special skills will be required. Knowledge of fabric softeners and colour-preserving detergents may help us win the next war.”

"Bollocks." Merlin sulked. "I'll show you colours.” 

A hand gesture, a muttered spell, and Arthur's jeans and shirt started cycling through the bright hues of the rainbow. 

“Merlin! Stop it! I look like a disco ball!”

Merlin grinned. “Remember last time we saved the world? The crazy Seventies! Your 'Saturday Night Fever' get-up was totally hot.” 

He squeezed Arthur's shoulder, which shifted from violet via red to orange. "You managed some groovy moves on the dance floor to vanquish that monstrous disco demon.” 

“Your power-zapping spells during 'Dancing Queen' made all the difference.”

Merlin shivered. He snuggled closer. “But you died! I _hate_ it every time you die from me.”

“What's important is that I'm back now. And we're going to use our washing machine.”

“Single-mindedly focused on your goal, as always.”

“Indeed. Let's look at the instructions.”

“How old-fashioned!” Merlin glanced at Arthur's booklet and groaned. “Pre-soak....extra delicate... synthetic fibres.....water temperature. Too many choices! Aaargh!”

Arthur nuzzled Merlin's neck. “It beats the old washboard and tub routine, wouldn't you say? And I have an idea: Every time we use that machine, we'll replicate its programme - in bed. That's a solemn promise, immortal sorcerer of mine. How's that for motivation, hmmm?”

Merlin's eyes brightened. “So if we choose, say, the _Steam treatment_ cycle, you'll.... ?”

“Blow you in the shower, of course”. 

"Brilliant!" Merlin squeaked with glee. “What about _Permanent press, fast/slow_?”

Arthur's tongue sneaked out to lick at Merlin's pink ear. “I'll hold you down and take you, fast and hard. Then you can top and go as slow as you please, until I beg for mercy.... or the washer finishes.“

“You've convinced me! Two blokes doing laundry - let's start right now!" 

His eyes suddenly glowing pure gold, Merlin whisked away every item of Arthur's colour-shifting clothes. They disappeared into the washer. Arthur was left sitting stark naked on the couch. 

“Merlin!” 

Merlin winked and magicked his own clothes away too.

Arthur grumbled. “No sorcery, remember?”

Merlin threw himself at Arthur, knocking him backwards and straddling him eagerly. “That was while _washing_. You didn't mention preparations.”

Arthur laughed, covered in nude wriggling sorcerer. “When did you become such a nitpicker?”

Merlin added washing powder and pushed control buttons from across the room. “Since you made me use a _machine_ to.... uhm, handle nits?“

He rubbed against Arthur urgently, full-body hot skin on skin, his hands reaching for the hardening royal cock. “I'll have you know I just started the _Heavy duty with maximum spin_ cycle. You'd better get with the programme, your Majesty!”

–----------------------

7.

**The Life Cycle of a Relationship**

 

**Pre- Relationship**

“Arthur, this is an intervention.”

Arthur laughed.

He laughed until he realised he was the only one laughing and that perhaps Gwen might not have been joking.

Arthur scoffed at his three nearest and dearest friends in disbelief.

“Well I sure hope it’s not about drinking because then this Margarita Sunday is going to get awkward very fast,” Arthur stated bringing his decidedly alcoholic beverage to his lips in defiance.

It was a rubbish intervention anyway. There wasn’t even a banner.

“It’s not about you drinking Arthur,” Lance assured him in his perfectly calm ‘Lance’ tones. “We’re just worried we haven’t seen you dating for awhile.”

Arthur scowled heavily at all of them and took another drink.

“You just don’t seem to be happy…” Lance trailed off looking at him with big concerned eyes as if he were a child lost on his way home.

“I’m perfectly happy,” Arthur blustered. “And I’ll have you know I went out with someone last week.”

Morgana snorted at him and took a long drag of her cigarette before blowing the smoke directly in his face. She was a dragon at heart, and like a dragon she took no prisoners.

“A hook up isn’t a relationship,” her teeth gleamed white and he had to remind himself she couldn’t eat him. “Besides I bet you can’t even remember that blokes name.”

Arthur couldn’t but he was hardly going to allow his friends to best him.

“Like you can all throw stones! I’ve slept with everyone at this table at least once.”

There was a tense silence before Morgana broke it with a surprising amount of sympathy.

“Oh ducky, that’s exactly our point.”

 

**Attraction**

Despite Arthur’s certainty that he would hate anyone his friends set him up with, he rather liked Merlin.

He was handsome in that tall gangly, could be from another planet, model kind of way, and Arthur wouldn’t be opposed to a roll in the hay with him, so to speak.

A relationship though, was a whole other matter.

The small Italian restaurant Gwen had booked them into seemed to foster conversation and they talked easily; Merlin smiling at Arthurs light ribbing while Merlin teased back in good nature.

A baby crying broke the atmosphere and Arthur scowled as he launched into a tirade against children as Merlin listened in bemusement.

“My god you’re a prat,” Merlin concluded, leaning in to kiss Arthur anyway. “I don’t even know why I like you.”

Arthur smiled and returned the kiss.

“I am rather attractive,” Arthur said once they broke apart.

“Yes,” Merlin agreed in confusion, “But I’m a teacher.”

 

**The ‘Honeymoon’ Stage**

The sex was spectacular, and even though Merlin was a bit of an idiot he was perfect in almost every way. 

His cock was a gift to mankind and when he smiled Arthur was sure there was no one else more perfect in the universe.

 

**Reality**

“Do you have to go Arthur?” Merlin asked for what felt like the tenth time but was actually the first. 

Perhaps it felt like the tenth time to him because every time Arthur looked at him Merlin’s entire body seemed to hunch in on itself, his bright blue eyes unconsciously begging him to stay.

Arthur gritted his teeth in annoyance and turned towards the mirror to straighten his tie.

“He’s my father Merlin, and if he believes it would be beneficial for the company if I wined and dined this Mithian Nemeth, then I believe him.”

“This isn’t just a business meeting Arthur,” Merlin suddenly rose from his hunched form into the man Arthur new and kept expanding until his entire presence filled the room. “Your father wants you to marry this girl. Don’t deny it!”

“Maybe he does,” Arthur conceded, turning to cup Merlin’s cheek with his hand, “But I love you.”

Arthur rested his forehead against merlin’s own. 

“Shouldn’t that be all that matters.”

 

**Commitment**

“You need to shit or get off the pot Arthur.”

“What the hell Morgana?” Arthur asked, his nose wrinkling with distaste. “What does that even mean?”

Morgana narrowed her eyes.

“Merlin’s waiting for you Arthur. He stares at you when you’re not looking, and he doesn’t even trash talk you when we complain about you when you’re not around,” Morgana smirked.

“He loves you, but I’m not sure you love him.”

“Of course I love him,” Arthur said outraged.

“If you really loved him, you wouldn’t be playing Uther’s games Ducky,” Morgana lit another cigarette. “You need to choose. It's time to shit or get off the pot.” Her eyes seemed alive with some understanding Arthur couldn’t yet grasp as she blew smoke rings at him.

Yep, she was definitely a dragon. 

–---------------

8.

Arthur found out he was an omega the hard way. Literally. Arthur hadn’t even contemplated the idea until Leon had him pinned down and rubbed the freakishly hard line of his cock against Arthur’s backside. He’d understood pretty quickly after that though. 

Luckily, even at sixteen Leon had the unbelievable self restraint he’d always had and managed to yell for Arthur to run, to go, to get to his chambers! All the while he’d still rutted.

The shouts were enough to break Arthur from the stupor the feel Leon’s hardness left him in. 

He’d never run so fast in his life.

\--

Being an omega wasn’t so tough, Arthur learned. As long as no one beside Leon or Gaius ever found out, that was. It hadn’t ever been too hard to keep a secret. Since he’d yet to find a mate his smells could be hidden quite well. Arthur figured the only thing that would give him trouble was dodging any attempts at marriage that Uther threw his way. Arthur had quickly accepted that he was going to have to marry for love, because no princess wanted an omega husband and Arthur was not letting himself get offered to another kingdom like some other prince’s prize maiden. Other than that, being an omega wasn’t so bad at all . . . 

It was on an overnight hunting trip when Arthur learned how very wrong this notion was.

\--

Merlin cried out as tight, hot wetness enveloped his cock. He could feel himself swelling into the heat already. He couldn’t help it. Everything about the omega beneath Merlin was so perfect. The way the other was dripping wet for Merlin’s hardness had him out of his mind. 

And Gods, Merlin thought as he nuzzled into the blond hairs at the base of the other’s neck. His fucking scent.

Merlin couldn’t have told a soul how he managed to get himself from point A to point B. 

Point A being on the path toward Camelot to live with his mother’s friend, and point B being balls deep in the most delectable heat he’d ever felt. Not that he’d ever felt any other heat or anything, but Merlin was pretty sure this one was special.

Not to mention that the omega--his omega, Merlin’s mind helpfully supplied--was the most gorgeous specimen of human life Merlin had ever seen. The moment Merlin had laid eyes on him he’d wanted nothing more than to mate. Merlin had never in his life had such a desire to claim. 

And claim he had.

Merlin didn’t fight off the swelling in his cock. It felt so full, so hard, but the sensation was even better. His body and his magic both thrummed pleasantly as he snapped in and out of the omega’s clinging walls. At this point, Merlin didn’t think he could’ve held off his knot if he wanted to try.

The omega had no protest, and Merlin knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the other’s body had probably taken over his sense long before Merlin had even arrived. After all, stumbling onto an unmated omega opening himself up with nearly five fingers in the middle of the woods had to be a rare occurrence. 

However as Merlin felt the tight heat open up and accept the thick base of his cock, he reasoned that it had to be fate or something. 

Yes, Merlin thought as he emptied into the body beneath and frantically sniffed up their mingled scents. Definitely destiny.

\--

When Arthur had woke up with lanky limbs tied around him and an alphas thickness still deep in his heat he knew he was so beyond screwed. 

That was why he had to leave the poor sap there, Arthur knew he was ruining both their lives by running away. They’d mated. Arthur felt it and with the way the alpha had reacted to him, Arthur expected he’d felt it even more. 

\--

Arthur had left that day thinking he’d never see his mate again.

Imagine Arthur’s surprise five days later when a random shout made him look across the courtyard and his eyes fell on a pasty, blue eyed alpha.

His mate. 

–-------------------

9.

** Coming On: Part 1 **

Merlin trembled as he made his way up the stairs to Arthur’s chambers, feeling his face flush and his heartbeat quicken. He knew what was happening, unexpected as it was. His heat had a horrible tendency to come early one month and late the next – as irregular as Merlin himself, Gaius said.

He closed the door to Arthur’s chambers, leaning back against the wood as he let himself relax a bit more, his cramps already starting to fade. That was one thing he hated about heat – the pains beforehand as his body prepared itself for what was to come. Merlin supposed he should count himself lucky though. At least he didn’t have a monthly bleeding _and_ a monthly heat. 

Merlin let Arthur’s armor drop to floor, his arms no longer able to hold it’s weight. He’d deal with it later. Instead, he leaned over the table, legs spread and arse up to soothe his sickly feeling.

“Isn’t that a sight.”

Merlin yelped, standing up again with a wince, blushing as he realized he hadn’t noticed Arthur sitting at his desk in his haze.

“I’ll clean it up later.” He mumbled, looking down at the armor and scuffing his feet.

“No, you won’t.” Arthur said easily, expression going soft as he padded to over to Merlin, sidling up behind him as he pressed cool hands to the slighter man’s abdomen. Merlin sighed in relief, leaning back against his lover gratefully.

“Don’t you have a council meeting?” He asked, eyes already closing.

“Told them it could wait.” Arthur murmured, pressing a kiss to Merlin’s temple. “Knew you were coming on.”

“ _I_ didn’t even know.”

“That’s because you’re an idiot.”

Merlin huffed, batting half-heartedly at Arthur. “M’not.” He mumbled, leaning into his lover’s touch as Arthur felt at his forehead. “Feel ill.”

“It’ll pass.” Arthur said soothingly before steering him towards the bed. “Come on, let’s get you settled.”

Merlin was always ridiculously pliant when before (and sometimes during) his heat. Arthur always complained on him going limp, saying he couldn’t deal with Merlin’s octopus-like limbs. Merlin knew he secretly loved it though – being able to take care of him. He loved it too. After all, how could he refuse being stripped down, curling into Arthur’s side and having a nap, before the rampant sex hormones kicked in? Nothing to complain about, really.

Speaking of rampant sex hormones, Merlin felt like he had just closed his eyes when he felt himself grow hot and eager.

“Arthur….” He groaned, starting to brush his lips over his lover’s bare chest – when had that happened? – nipping at him occasionally. He felt Arthur chuckle as fingers threaded through his hair, making Merlin purr delightedly.

“Eager, are you?” Arthur asked, clearly amused. Merlin bit him slightly harder, grinning at the affronted yelp he got in return.

“Not my fault.”

“Mmm.” Arthur hummed, one hand sliding down Merlin’s back before dipping into his breeches, rubbing over his now slick hole in a way that made Merlin shiver and groan with anticipation. “Yes, you’re clearly in total agony.”

“I am.” Merlin argued, moaning as Arthur slipped a finger inside him, teasing at his rim. Arthur just laughed softly, turning Merlin so he was on his front – arse in the air – as he moved to settle behind him.

“Hush now…” He murmured, stroking a strong hand down Merlin’s spine and over his rump. “I’ve got you.”

“Then do something.” Merlin whined. 

Arthur smirked as he pressed a kiss to the small of Merlin’s back, bringing his hands up to his lover’s arse as he spread him wide. “Look at you, all wet and wide already.” He said reverently, licking a long stripe across Merlin’s hole, making the other man gasp. 

“A-Arthur –“

“Shh…” Arthur murmured, not wasting any time as he sunk two fingers into Merlin, reveling in his little cry. He dived in to lick around Merlin’s stretched rim, scissoring his fingers as he snuck his tongue between them every so often. It didn’t take long until Merlin was writhing in the bedclothes, groans muffled in the pillows. 

“Come on, baby.” Arthur purred. “One to take the edge of.”

Merlin was a beauty when he came. All flushed skin, closed eyes, and slack mouth. It was stunning, and his sounds were even better. Even when Merlin had finished for the time being and Arthur was left wanting, he was happy to tuck him back into his side and stroke his hair. 

They had his whole heat, after all. 

–------------------

10.

The cry of geese flying south echoes across the lake, bouncing back from the hillsides. Freya looks up and smiles, tracking the arc of their flight.

"Careful," Elena calls out, and Freya ducks back to work, heaving the kayaks and other small boats up the path, one by one, into the shed with Elena's help.

The cabin is more of a sprawling camp at this point, complete with four porches and nearly a dozen bedrooms. The shed they're putting the boats in is one of three dotted across the little clearing beside the lake. Rough slate steps form the path up from the dock, slippery for the unwary, and Freya keeps a close eye on her feet as she staggers under the weight.

If the boys weren't busy trying to jack one of the porches back up to level with the house, she'd make them carry everything.

As it is, she and Elena are exhausted and sweaty by the time they lock up the shed. The snick of the old padlock sounds very final to Freya - another summer over, another year gone. She blinks away the slight burn in her eyes.

"Fancy a swim?" Elena asks, and Freya says " _Yes_ " with feeling.

The water is cool like a kiss on her skin, rising up her ankles and calves as she walks over the jumble of smooth rocks to reach the soft sand deeper out. When she's in up to her shoulders, Elena comes back from checking under the dock, hair and face streaming water (and one stray piece of algae that Freya plucks out).

"Hullo," Elena grins, and pecks her on the lips. Freya kisses back, easy as a dream.

The boys come down half an hour later in their trunks, dust-covered and clearly exhausted, muttering something about chipmunks. Freya doesn't ask. 

Gwaine runs down the dock and cannonballs into the water because he's still an idiot after all these years. (Freya has given up pointedly mentioning spinal injuries around him.) Elyan follows at a more sedate pace, settling on the end of the dock with his feet in the water, gifting them all with his quiet smile as the sun slowly sinks behind the mountains and the first star peeks out.

 

Intellectually, Freya knows that if Uther Pendragon ever remembers he owns a rustic cabin on a lake his late wife bought on a whim, then real caretakers might be hired, and she and the others would never again open the house in the spring, do maintenance over the summer, and close it down every fall. But this is where the four of them began (well, technically they started at a little shack out on one of the islands, with nothing but a radio and a dartboard to keep their attention off each other). They would survive the change, she thinks, but the familiarity of it is comforting.

"Come on, then," Elyan finally says, splashing Gwaine and Elena with his foot, where they're wrestling and dunking each other like children. "Freya's getting cold, and I'm hungry."

"Food!" Both of them are out and running up the stone steps in moments, leaving behind wet footprints. Freya follows more slowly, Elyan's arm slung around her shoulders.

****

After supper, Elyan rub Elena's shoulders in the firelight, wallowing on the antique rug in front of the fireplace. Gwaine sits beside Freya on a slightly uncomfortable 1920s couch, kissing her neck in a way that will probably bruise tomorrow.

It's strange, how time and the singing of her heart in this quiet, half-abandoned cabin has taught her that the dreams she was sold as a child - a single prince charming, to give her a happily ever after - were lies spun of clouds. What she has is so much better.

What she has is Gwaine's hand sliding down over her belly to squeeze between her legs, soaking her panties. She moans and spreads, the wet sounds of Elena and Elyan kissing only urging her head back, eyes closed, heart hammering.

"Oh!" Elena cries, loud as ever, and "I want to lick Freya while you fuck me. Yeah?"

Elyan's yes is a growl, and Gwaine's is a full-body shudder while he pulls Freya's panties off and tugs her, rag-doll limp with pleasure, into his lap.

"How did I get so lucky?" he whispers, his stubble rasping against her cheek, and Freya thinks, _That's my line._

Over the sound of their harsh breathing, she can just hear the cries of geese in the distance.

–--------------

11.

Merlin threw his rucksack on the floor and fell onto his bed with a sigh.

“So fucking glad it’s Friday.”

Arthur set his bag down neatly before climbing on the bed to sit back against the wall. “Bad day?” he asked.

“My cock hates me. It’s determined to embarrass me every chance it gets.”

Arthur laughed. “One of those days where it won’t go down and you’ve no idea why?”

“Yes!”

“Glad those days are rare for me.”

“That’s because you’re a fucking late bloomer, lucky sod. Your voice still sounds like a girl’s.”

Arthur shoved him. “It does no-OT!”

Merlin cackled. “Your voice cracked! What impeccable timing.”

“Shut up,” Arthur snapped, shoving him again.

“Ugh, stop touching me, you’re making it go up again and I’ve only just got it back down.”

It had been a slip of the tongue. Merlin hadn’t meant to blurt it out, but there it was, hanging in the air between them.

The seconds passed slowly, dragging on until Merlin was afraid to even breathe.

Arthur’s voice was nearly a whisper when he finally spoke, quiet and intimate. “Does that mean you like it when I touch you?”

Merlin swallowed. He didn’t know how Arthur would react. He wasn’t even really sure of anything himself yet. Everything was so confusing.

But he did know he loved Arthur touching him.

Arthur’s hand drifted closer, over the duvet, over Merlin’s stomach and up to his chest. Merlin’s heart jumped up to his throat.

“Does this feel good?” Arthur asked.

Merlin opened his mouth, but didn’t speak. He didn’t think he could, not with Arthur’s hand caressing his chest like it had in all his wet dreams.

“There’s something I have to tell you, Merlin,” Arthur said, raising his eyes to Merlin’s. “I’ve known for a while, and as my best friend I think you should know.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“I’m gay, Merlin.”

“Oh.”

For some reason, that got Merlin even harder. Maybe it was because his overactive imagination made the jump to Arthur straddling him and whispering in his ear “I like cock and I wanna suck yours until you come down my throat.”

That didn’t happen. What Arthur said instead was, “Is it okay if I touch you, Merlin?”

Merlin was nodding before Arthur even finished the question.

Arthur’s hand lowered, past Merlin’s stomach, down his abdomen, into his pants. Merlin gasped at the first touch of cold fingertips, the first touch of _anyone_ else’s fingers down there. It made him whimper and lift his hips before he knew what he was doing.

Arthur was breathing just as hard as Merlin, probably staring just as intently at where his hand disappeared beneath Merlin’s trousers. His fingers curled around Merlin’s dick and Merlin gripped the duvet, choking off a whine.

“Can I—”

“Yeah.”

Merlin brought his hands down to fumble for the button on his jeans, shoving it all to his knees when it was undone. He nearly came just from the sight of Arthur’s hand wrapped around his cock.

“Wow,” Arthur exhaled.

“I thought you said you were gay?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t mean I’ve held someone else’s cock before, Merlin.”

“Oh.” Merlin swallowed again, and tried to keep his voice firm as he said, “Well you can, um, do whatever you want with it. Especially now you’ve gotten it hard again.”

Arthur lips twitched in a slight smile before becoming serious again. Merlin thought he would die when Arthur started to lean forward, flicking his eyes up to Merlin’s to see if it was okay to keep going. His heart was definitely going to burst out of his chest any second now, his fingernails sure to rip through the sheets where his hands were curled desperately.

One kitten lick to the head and Merlin’s thighs convulsed, the tension in his groin making it near impossible to calm his breathing. Another lick further down the shaft, another broad one tonguing all the way up before pouty lips wrapped around the whole thing and—

“Nnnh!”

“Ugh!” Arthur sprang back, wiping his face and chin with the back of his hand. “Some warning would’ve been nice.”

Merlin was still breathless, but managed to say, “W-Watch out for my spunk, Arthur.”

Arthur sighed and sat back against the wall. Merlin noticed the bulge in Arthur’s jeans and had started tentatively reaching out before he realised he was doing it. By the time his hand had closed around the hard shaft through the denim and he let his gaze drift up to Arthur’s face, he’d already made up his mind.

“I can return the favour if you want.”

–--------------

12.

 

Pain arched through Arthur's body, he would not travel much further today, but the nearest village was still some eight miles distant. He wearily unstrapped his sword, leaning on it like an old man to lower himself onto a flat stone, let his forehead rest gently on the cool pommel and murmured a prayer to St Christopher. 

He must've dozed, because when he was startled by the rattle of a heavy cart, the sky had darkened considerably. The wagon pulled up beside him, first in a convoy. Whispering thanks to the heavens, he accepted a ride, they were players, heading to the Shrovetide festivities, the greybeard driving informed him. They’d carry him not just to the next village but all the way to the shining city-port, from where he could take ship to England. Arthur wept in gratitude as he was helped by strong arms into the lead wagon.

* * *

A terrible heat, and a bone-deep cold. Kind eyes, squinting worriedly. Calloused fingers picking off his clothes.

* * *

Arthur woke to a cool breeze, birdsong and pale light. 

A strange face peered down at him, though whether demonic or angelic he couldn't say, a bare chest, green ink picked out ridges and... Scales?

* * *

When Arthur awoke fully it was evening, orange shadows danced and wild music reeled outside. From the caravan, Arthur could see the revellers, scattered around several fires, while in between them danced two young women, their skirts flew and their hair flickered in the firelight as they juggled shining knives between them, all the time wheeling in perfect synchronicity to the beat of the drum. With a flourish they plunged each blade into the earth in a neat row and joined hands, bowing deeply. Next into the circle was a wiry young man, naked but for a small pouch to cover his modesty, Arthur blushed, but couldn't look away as the man's tattooed skin rippled in the orange glow. He turned a few simple cartwheels before bending himself backwards and scuttling like a crab, his long neck stretched and ribs distended, then, still on his hands, he lifted his legs in the air, holding them straight for a moment and then dropping them over, performing a complete roll and coming up on his feet. Though he’d not appeared to have exerted himself, there was a thin sheen of sweat across his body, and Arthur marvelled at the gleam as he flipped over and over, ever faster, smooth as spider-silk.

"The Serpent." It was the man who had offered him the ride, "One of our most popular attractions. And most precious." He was fixed with a meaningful eyebrow, Arthur knew he was not talking about coin.

The tumbler leapt sinuously into the caravan and grinned widely at Arthur. He smelt of warm earth and joy and woodsmoke, and Arthur felt the creeping shame he had fought for so many years. The aptly named Serpent was caressing his wound and Arthur tried to concentrate on the cleansing pain.

"Is this hell?" He asked.

The man tutted. "You're still feverish, so I'm going to ignore that foolishness."

Not knowing from where his boldness came, Arthur reached out to touch the patterned sinews before him.

"Serpent." He croaked.

The man rolled his eyes and glared behind him, the older man's retreating chuckle signalling they were alone. "Merlin. It started as a joke," he said, holding a waterskin to Arthur’s lips. "Part of my act. Do you know your alchemy? The serpent who swallows his own tail?”

Arthur shook his head, alchemy was second to witchcraft.

Merlin sighed, "It’s… Nevermind. You wouldn't like it. It's for a niche audience."

"I think I’d like anything you did."

Merlin bit his lip. "Maybe you would." 

* * *

It was a disturbing sight, Arthur's bones protested just from watching. Merlin's legs were spread, knees hooked behind elbows, his torso almost folded in half. He snuffled and panted, eyes watering as he suckled on the plump head of his own cock, his balls pulled tight, dusky hole ignored. 

The wound in Arthur’s side throbbed; he pumped his erection, head spinning.

Merlin rocked back, heaving a frantic breath then diving down to suck harder, getting his lips halfway down the shaft and finally spluttering as his thick seed bubbled over and out from between his slackening lips.

He smirked triumphantly, wiped his face and stretched out his long limbs, while Arthur whispered desperate prayers to his new saint, “ _Merlin_.”

–--------------

13.

When Arthur turned the sigil’s dial, lines clicking into place, he didn’t expect to join Merlin in the middle of the French revolution. The streets of Paris were in chaos, crowds milling around Arthur as he stood, looking up at a barricade that filled the narrow street. 

Atop it stood Merlin, shouting commands at people nearby. He was fresh-faced, limbs gangly, and the look in his eyes so much the Merlin who’d arrived in Camelot. It drew Arthur closer until he was climbing the barricade with difficulty, his bearings unsteady. 

Merlin didn’t acknowledge him, of course, not until they were face to face and Arthur was looking at him with his heart in his throat and his thoughts tangled. Merlin’s lips pulled into a smile and then he spoke in rapid French, pointing over Arthur’s shoulder. 

Of course Merlin didn’t speak English. Of course Merlin didn’t remember him. But he looked oddly beautiful, even surrounded by chaos and uncertainty. His face was glowing with young idealism, with ideas that Arthur couldn’t find himself in, couldn’t truly associate with Merlin. 

But when Arthur had his hand wrapped around Merlin’s cock in a dark corner of the inn, he was every bit the Merlin Arthur knew. It didn’t matter if the words from his mouth were foreign, every arch of his body was familiar. Arthur breathed wetly into his neck, emotions rolling dangerously in the pit of his stomach. 

He couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t stay, not when Merlin was destined to die before his eyes, not when Merlin didn’t remember him anyway. 

He turned the dial back.

&&

Arthur didn’t know how the sigil actually worked. He’d given it to Merlin once, only to get it in return years later, Merlin smiling cryptically when he told Arthur not to ask questions, especially not stupid ones. Arthur had learned, over the inexplicable amount of years he’d lived, to let the questions go. So whenever the sigil would turn golden, he picked it up with a rush of anticipation.

&&

Merlin stood with his back to Arthur, perfectly tailored trousers highlighting the swell of his arse. His office was lavish, windows from floor to ceiling and a large mahogany desk at the centre. The Merlin who turned around was older, laugh-lines around his eyes, oddly imposing in his suit. The salt and pepper hair was a look Arthur had never seen on any version of Merlin and it went straight to his cock. 

“Mr Pendragon?” His voice was the same, and Arthur ached, pulling himself together to nod. “Scotch?” All Arthur could focus on after that was the sound of Merlin’s voice and the tones of _She Loves You_ from the tinny radio speakers.

Arthur had no idea what contract they were negotiating, but after, he accepted the invitation for drinks and smiled with intent when Merlin’s leg pressed against his under the table. 

When Merlin took him back to his penthouse and fucked him on his enormous bed, Arthur knew him, all of him. He hung his head between his shoulders as he took Merlin’s cock, let it spread him wide and desperate. The hitches of Merlin’s breath were whispers of too many times gone by. 

He allowed himself the night, knowing there was no space for him in this life. 

&&

The sigil didn’t just glow golden this time, it rattled and burned bright hot. It pulled at him, whispered his name, and led him across the park outside his flat. There was music coming from the outdoor stage, a single person with a violin moving slowly across the it, playing to himself. He was so casual, as if his existence wasn’t a miracle. 

Arthur stopped, pressing his hand around the sigil. He hadn’t touched the dial. It hadn’t taken him back or forward, it had barely taken him a few steps from his flat, and yet he’d know that body anywhere in space and time. 

The music died as Merlin’s eyes met his and he lowered the violin. 

“Arthur,” Merlin said, his gaze flickering to the sigil. 

Something in Arthur broke. It cracked down the middle and splintered into pieces. 

&&

“You remember,” Arthur said, lips pressed to the swell of Merlin’s arse. He traced his tongue along the rim, closing his eyes as Merlin moaned into the sheets. 

“Arthur, how the fuck could I forget?”

Arthur’s hands tightened on Merlin’s hips, fucking Merlin desperately with his tongue. That’s what Arthur had asked himself all along.

–--------------

14.

They say he's the Lord of Life and Death, that he's Emrys, Death himself.

To Arthur he's _Merlin _—smooth skin flushed pink with desire when their bodies rub against each other, blue eyes full of trust. His laugh is earnest and sweet as they fool around, throwing slices of red apples into the air to catch them with their mouths. His naked feet are ticklish when Arthur drags his finger under their soles before they dive into the water to cool off after the midday heat.__

__*_ _

__The first birds spread their wings and fly away with a screechy wail, leaving behind branches with their leaves turning brown. Arthur watches the leaves fall one by one to the ground, wrinkling the forest floor, and he knows the time has come again._ _

__He tugs Merlin into bed. The fire burns hot and bright in the hearth. He slips under the heavy furs next to Merlin and runs his hands over Merlin's naked skin. Sweat beads up under his touch, and for a moment it seems like it's enough._ _

__*_ _

__“Let me warm you, love.”_ _

__Arthur breathes on his palms, places them over Merlin's clasped hands and rubs hard and fast, then he gathers Merlin in his arms and kisses his mouth deeply, desperately._ _

__He knows it's pointless. Merlin's skin is clammy and cold, pale like the moon. His eyes are distant, all the warm golden glow gone, leaving only frosty blue._ _

__*_ _

__He'll return with the first sunrays of spring, with his clothes torn and body thin, skin paper-white and covered in bruises and cuts. He'll cling to Arthur; his broken, dirty fingernails will dig into Arthur's flesh. He'll meow like a kitten when Arthur feeds him greasy morsels of seasoned meat and makes him drink sweet, heated mead. He’ll purr with pleasure when Arthur drags him to the bed, peeling dirty clothes away piece by piece and running a warm washcloth over his skin, cleaning him and then stretching him bit by bit with oiled fingers._ _

__Then they will climb on each other, all clumsy and needy, hands desperate and mouths too eager, until Arthur will throw Merlin off with a groan, lay him on his back, and hold him by his throat to make him stop writhing. Arthur will thrust hard into Merlin’s body, filling him up to the brim with his hot seed. Only then will Merlin sigh and unravel, smiling broadly, stretching in the rays of the sun. Only then will he close his gold-rimmed eyes and sleep, sleep, sleep._ _

__Days and nights will pass, but finally Arthur will wake up to Merlin walking through gardens and meadows, flowers blooming with his every step, the plants and bees greeting him, and everything coming to life under his gentle fingers._ _

__Arthur's learned to cherish that time, for it's never long enough. He's learned to treasure the nights full of humid, hot air and Merlin's lips parted in a silent gasp, his hands grabbing Arthur's hair hard, his teeth leaving deep marks in Arthur's flesh, and his cock always hard for Arthur, swollen fat and dripping. Arthur licks it all and swallows, pumps it till it's dry, till only the bitter taste left in Arthur's mouth tells the story of what they’ve done together._ _

__

__*_ _

__He never knows when and how Merlin descends Underground. He’s tried to stay awake, to see if Merlin digs his way through the hard soil to the core of the Earth or if he just dissolves into thin air._ _

__But, as usual, Arthur wakes up one morning to an empty bed and thick snowy clouds hanging above the castle._ _

__He grabs his fox fur coat, wrapping it over his shoulders, and he throws another log onto the fire. Outside, the frost is already painting the widows in spiral flowers._ _

__Arthur starts counting the nights yet to come before Merlin's light will overcome the darkness once again, and Merlin's moans of pleasure and hushed words will replace the suffocating silence of the snowed-in castle’s walls._ _

__*_ _

__They say once the High King is gone, the grief of Emrys will be so vast the old Earth will perish. Furious fire will swallow meadows and forests until there's nothing but white ash. And then the everlasting Winter will come; ice will cover the ground, and amidst the sea of white the only thing that will last will be the skinny boy with a frozen heart and skin as pale as the moon._ _

____

–--------------

15.

The earth lays low and soft, a quiet breath held deep within the soil, as magic coils tight within her roots.

Waiting.

\---

Uther Pendragon's reign begins simply enough, Camelot caught in the wispy doldrums of the end of autumn. The magic wanes where it once flowed in a tireless current, few left to wield it with any skill.

And then there is Ygraine and blood sacrifice and the frost sets in completely, as if this final burst has used up the last of the earth herself.

But the earth smiles when her other golden child is born as she goes to sleep.

She has given all of herself to them, to the glimmering hope of their future that will live long in the minds of men.

\---

The land bears Uther fruit meekly, begrudgingly, the fields withering without the spark to sing through their veins.

It's been many years since any protection has been incanted over them. And still Uther persists.

\---

Prince Arthur grows strong and sturdy. But there is a childish arrogance and temper in him that flares to life when he is finally confronted with his fate:

Merlin.

\---

"You can't speak to me like that," he says in bemusement, eyes raking over the long lines of the man in front of him.

But she can feel the way his blood pulses as they begin to whip their flails at each other in earnest, and it has less to do with the ferocity of the fight than it does the way Merlin's eyes flash and smirk, unafraid and disarming.

\---

With the first stirrings of renewal the earth grins.

\---

The Druids call him Emrys, hanging all their belief around his neck, but the earth knows his heart, and in his heart he is Merlin, always Merlin, Arthur's Merlin, with all the love the land needs in his boyish smile and kind blue eyes and uncompromising voice that rings through the air, calling to them all.

\---

"Sometimes I don't know what to think of my father's ban on magic," Arthur whispers deep in the night to Merlin, now his manservant, the one who will follow him anywhere, everywhere.

The unicorn, the blue orbs of light, all the death and destruction and hatred that have been a part of the fabric of his childhood, they haunt him in the canopy of his dreams.

"You'll know, I promise. You will be the greatest king Camelot has ever seen someday," Merlin says and lays a hand upon his shoulder.

 _I have faith in you_ , goes unsaid, but Arthur still hears it and curls into the touch, content.

\---

One day, the earth worries, Merlin really will kill the dragon before they've even had a chance to truly work together.

"What do you mean, true love's kiss?!?"

\---

Merlin, once he's screamed in frustration and thrown himself at Arthur in a last-ditch effort (and, probably, the last chance he will ever have get to know Arthur's mouth, he thinks), is even more shocked than Arthur is when he finally regains coherence.

The mortified blush on both their cheeks doesn't stop Arthur from fitting his large, calloused hands to Merlin's waist, spanning the whole of him, as he noses along the sensitive skin of Merlin's neck.

\---

Later, when Arthur tumbles him to the ground, wrapping him in his love, his need, Merlin throws his head back and gasps, come and dirt and magic smearing across them, blending into one, singing the most beautiful song for all the land to hear.

As Arthur slides into him, huge and thick and _alive_ , Merlin comes into the earth and she welcomes their offering with open arms, laughter vibrant in her as she soothes and hums, threading them together in golden tendrils.

\---

But, as the land begins to quicken once again, magic stretching out happily, giddily, the earth mourns the fear in her daughter's cold, cold heart. Winter's eternal offspring, who took her first breath while the earth could only dream.

And as the years pass and Arthur's reign flourishes under the watchful eye of his love, she knows there is only one way it can end.

\---

Merlin's tears scald her soul as the boat blazes, falling out of sight.

They will all have to rest until the Once and Future King can rise again, bring the magic back to the land.

\---

The earth waits, preparing for her longest winter, and no matter how many summers pass, she will not waken for a long, long time.

She falls into slumber weeping softly for her lost, lonely child.

–--------------

16.

“Good morning, Mordred,” Arthur’s voice booms through his office.

“Ow. Volume,” Mordred mumbles and reaches for his control pad, only to find the screen lacking its usual settings menu and displaying a single image of fingers curled into a crude gesture instead. He huffs, unimpressed. “I take it Merlin’s pissed off again.”

“He might have said some things… that weren’t very nice about you last night,” Arthur replies and Mordred winces as the disembodied voice pierces through his skull. 

He waves at Arthur when he walks into his usual display. Merlin’s is still dark and Mordred doubts he’ll be able to make it come to life if Merlin wants to hide from him.

“What did I do this time?” Mordred asks, then raises his hand to stop Arthur from replying. “Whisper, please.”

Arthur walks forward, his figure enlarging and filling the screen until all Mordred can see is his mouth and nostrils. It’s completely unnecessary and Arthur knows it, but Mordred snorts with amusement nonetheless.

“I’m not sure,” Arthur whispers. “He didn’t want to talk to me, either.”

“Well, can’t you drag him out already? I don’t know why he—”

“Oh, you fucking know why,” Merlin shouts and Mordred groans, putting his hands over his ears. He glares at Merlin’s display as it lights up and he’s met with Merlin staring at him, his arms crossed.

“Do you mind?” Mordred asks and points at his ear. Merlin huffs and the pad in Mordred’s hand clears up, then shows the volume setting drop down to a bearable level. “Thank you,” Mordred says and slides a hand over the screen, but it gives no reaction. Merlin’s still not giving him access to his own interface. “What?” Mordred looks up at Merlin, irritated.

Merlin points at the pad and Mordred sees the words _I know about Morgana_ written across the screen. He feels his shoulders slump as he looks back at Merlin. 

He only found her last week. How can Merlin know about it already?

“Don’t lie to us,” Merlin says, his voice cracking. 

Mordred feels an odd kind of hollowness in his chest. “I had to,” he says and glances at Arthur for a second. Merlin clenches his jaw. 

“What’s going on?” Arthur asks. No one answers him.

“We can still do it,” Mordred promises. 

They can figure out a way to translate the ones and zeroes Arthur and Merlin are made of right now into something palpable, they can bind their souls to bodies made of flesh and bones, not code. It doesn’t matter that Morgana won’t help them. It doesn’t matter that they’ve gone through this over and over again - seeked help from sorcerers known and foreign only to be rejected out of fear for the ways of old they could bring back to life if they had the means. 

They’re wrong, these sorcerers; they don’t know Arthur like Mordred does, nor understand why Mordred’s sworn allegiance to him, especially now that the supposed Once and Future King is trapped in a machine, powerless. Mordred doesn’t care. He’ll repeat the steps - search, contact, beg, fail, repeat - again and again, until the king and his sorcerer can walk the earth and breathe its air and feel sunlight burn their skin once again.

Merlin lets out a defeated sigh and walks to the left; he disappears, then shows up again on Arthur’s display. He finds home in Arthur’s arms and Arthur embraces him readily, throwing a confused glance at Mordred’s direction.

He doesn’t have time to say anything, the questions lingering on his tongue getting muffled by Merlin’s lips on his. Mordred thinks that’s as far as they’ll go - share a quick, comforting kiss before they all get to work, but he’s so wrong. Merlin lets out a little moan and pulls at Arthur’s shirt; Arthur doesn’t protest, tangles his fingers in Merlin’s hair instead.

“Oh, come on, I just woke up,” Mordred groans. Merlin waves him off without even looking at him and Mordred sighs. He dims the displays to give them privacy and walks out of his office, knowing they’ll be going at it for quite a while. 

He spends the better part of his day with his head buried beneath a pillow, praying Merlin will finally take mercy on him and turn the sounds of their moans down, even just a little bit.

–--------------

17.

When the first snow kisses the ground, Merlin thinks the winter season must be the one that hurts the most. Even in this modern century of heating technology, he can never get warm. Not when he remembers the roaring fireplace of Arthur’s chambers, the solacing heat of the prince’s body as they sprawled together, so close Merlin could see the gleam from the flames dancing in the curve of Arthur’s sweat-glistened back. As if it had been only days rather than centuries, Merlin remembers the shivering tingle of warmth Arthur’s fingers would leave as they mapped their way across his skin. He remembers cradling his body to Arthur’s, the sweat-sticky fit of his inner thighs to Arthur’s skin as Arthur’s hips rolled sweet, hot pleasure into him, making Merlin shudder from the deepest reaches of his own body. He remembers the heat of Arthur’s gaze, locked on him from above with so much intensity. How it banished all thought of the cold outside the castle walls.

The warmer season is no better. Merlin can think only of the taste of wild berries and spring on Arthur’s lips. Long, lazy afternoons when they had been supposed to go on a hunt or on some task for Uther, but they would grow distracted by long kisses under the newly-flowering trees of the forest. He remembers the crisp spring air always being conducive to fast, desperate fucks. Riding Arthur frantically and feeling his strong, taut thighs beneath his own and strong hands gripping and guiding his waist – or spread out across the bed with Arthur using every bit of his physical prowess to fuck Merlin raw, until Merlin was stifling cries into the messy press of Arthur’s mouth

The sparkling sunshine of summer has been forever spoiled for Merlin. He can only see the way it used to shimmer in Arthur’s hair. Later, as the days grow hot and muggy, Merlin remembers the salty drag of Arthur’s flushed skin against his own. He remembers the kind of lethargic, torturously slow lovemaking that left him whimpering and sure that Arthur was so deeply entangled with him, they would be one forever. The spectral memory of whispered words of love leaves Merlin impervious to the summer warmth. Even the hottest days are nothing compared to the warmth of what it was like being Arthur’s.

The autumn is different, and hurts in entirely new ways as the leaves fall in varying shades of Pendragon red. He sees in them Arthur’s eyes of vulnerability, his helpless habit of questioning his own decisions, his inability to believe in his own probity. In the autumn winds pregnant with the year’s first chill, Merlin shivers from the memory of Arthur’s seeking questions. 

“Tell me what I should do.” … “What would you do, Merlin, if you were me?” … “I’ve made a terrible mistake, haven’t I?”

Coats could never keep Merlin from trembling. Hundreds of years of life, of knowledge, and they still fail him the words Merlin should have said in those late nights when everyone in the kingdom except the two of them had gone to sleep, when there was nothing in the world Merlin wanted more than to make the anguished man lying beside him see himself the same way Merlin saw him. Merlin wonders whether it would have made a difference, at the end. 

The coldest days of December always bring his answer. The world is still frozen, helpless without its Once and Future King, and Merlin will endure another yearly cycle, immutable and unfeeling through time, another year gone in nothing but a prick against the skin.

 

–-----------------

18.

What an afternoon: the sun burning on his bare forearms, the headwind’s pressure against his chest, the landscape a blur. Fierce and beautiful, his bike, and Arthur didn’t regret the afternoon he spent chasing adrenaline riding her. 

Now to get changed. He still had an hour--

“Caught you. _In flagrante delicto_.”

Arthur whipped around. Merlin was leaning against the shed’s door frame, arms crossed, looking _knowing_. Arthur jerked his hand away from his bike’s frame, resisted the urge to glance down at himself. Biker boots; leather trousers; a white, sweat-soaked shirt sticking to his stomach and chest.

“Not what it looks like,” he blurted, and Merlin said, “ _So_ what it looks like,” and, bugger, his escape route was gone. Merlin was advancing.

He stopped before Arthur, scrutinising him. Sticking his hands into his pockets, Arthur refused to look away like a guilty schoolboy. “Dislocated shoulder, cervical collar,” Merlin said, touching Arthur’s shoulder and throat. “Almost a jaw fracture.”

There’d always be tossers on the road. Arthur shrugged. “Almost.”

The heel of Merlin’s palm pressed into the soft flesh of the underside of Arthur’s jaw, insistent. “If she breaks this, I break her.”

Arthur scowled. “It’s not her fault--”

“No; it’s yours. For being so obsessed with her.”

“What--”

“We had a deal, Arthur.” Merlin’s voice was lower now. “But of course you couldn’t wait to get on her again, could you? You’ve been itching to, restless with it.”

Arthur flushed. “I don’t--”

Merlin gripped Arthur’s chin. “Don’t deny it,” he said. “Got your arse on her seat the second I left this morning, didn’t you?”

Arthur clenched his jaw. Merlin, feeling the movement with his fingers, licked his lips. “Caught you. _In flagrante delicto_ ,” he murmured. “This”--Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur’s jaw--“is mine. No one else is allowed to break it.”

“Stop being ridiculous--”

“ _Jaw fracture_. If she breaks you, _I break her_.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Arthur snapped. “She’s mine--”

Merlin went still. He watched Arthur for a long moment, then let him go. Arthur, off-kilter, swallowed. Merlin’s eyes, suddenly dark, rooted him to the spot. He couldn’t look away.

“Oh, is she?” Merlin asked silkily. “Well, if she is…”

He took a step closer. Arthur took one back.

“...then she’s mine, too.”

Merlin, another step forward; Arthur, another step back. It made him bump against his bike. She swayed in her stand. “Merlin, you--”

The bike wobbled dangerously, and Arthur had to turn and put his hands against the wall to save her from crashing. Suddenly Merlin was a bold wall of body heat at Arthur’s back. “If she’s yours, she’s mine too,” he muttered. “Because _you_ are _mine_.”

The anger was gone in a flash, because--that was Merlin’s cock against his arse, right there. God. Images of this morning assaulted Arthur’s mind. He, bent over the kitchen counter, taking Merlin’s frantic pounding--

A pitiful groan escaped him. “Merlin--”

“ _Mine_ ,” Merlin hissed. The heavy _clink_ of Arthur’s belt was loud, the _snick_ of Arthur’s zipper a promise. Merlin’s fingers were a cold shock under Arthur’s trousers. In seconds he’d pulled them down, exposing Arthur’s arse and crotch. 

“Fuck,” Arthur gasped. His cock, already hard, was obscenely pale against the black leather seat of his bike, and Merlin’s denim-covered crotch was thick against his arse.

Merlin just spread Arthur’s cheeks with a hand, pressed himself forward so his bulge kept them apart, and fisted Arthur’s cock. “If she’s your slut,” he growled, “she’s mine too, so I can do with her whatever I want.”

“Merlin,” Arthur protested weakly. His cock slid in the ring of Merlin’s hand, faster, the head of it sliding over the leather seat with every hipstutter, leaving a translucent gleam of white on the black. The delight of it burned sharply in Arthur’s guts.

“You’re going to come on her,” Merlin said, squeezing Arthur’s cock hard before palming his balls. He shoved his hips forward, shoved Arthur into his bike. Staking claim. “I’m telling you to--”

Arms shaking, Arthur’s head hung between his shoulders. Teeth grit, he watched himself do it, his cock pulsing and shooting strings of white onto the leather. His arse clenched around Merlin’s bulge, and Merlin gave his own shuddering moan against Arthur’s neck, slumping forward.

There was a wet patch against his arse now, but Arthur didn’t mind much. His arms, though, trembled from the heavy load at his back, straining. “Fuck,” he complained.

Merlin groggily whispered, “Indeed,” and Arthur, half-laughing, half-groaning, agreed.

–---------------

19.

He stops when he hears rustling coming from somewhere to his left and waits. It wouldn’t be the first time for a deer to cross his path. A sound of quiet sobbing is not what he expected. 

“Is anyone there?”

The sobbing stops.

He doesn’t have to look around for long before he finds a man hunched close to a tree trunk.

“Are you hurt?” Arthur asks.

A pair of blue eyes land on him, full of terror. The man’s skin is unhealthy pale, his face streaked with tears. He’s shaking all over, his clothes are dirty and torn in some places. A small gust of wind brings a waft of scent towards Arthur. An omega. He smells like the last day of heat. 

Arthur moves closer. The man scrambles to his feet, stumbling on the uneven ground. 

“Please, don’t,” the omega pleads.

“I won’t hurt you.”

He takes a few more steps towards the man who immediately takes off. He’s frantic in his need to escape, but his body is betraying him. He’s too slow, too weak. Catching him is easy.

“I swear I’m not going to hurt you,” Arthur says. 

“Please, please, please. I’ll make it good for you, just...” the man begs.

Arthur follows his instincts and turns the scared omega around, pulling him to his chest and pressing his face to the crook of his neck, hoping that his scent will calm him as it’s very different from alphas’ mating pheromones. He breathes a sigh of relief when the man melts into his embrace and starts crying. 

xXx 

“What’s your name?”

No reaction. 

“I’m Arthur.”

“Merlin,” the man says, not pulling an inch from Arthur’s body.

“Good, Merlin, fine. How about we take you to hospital now?”

Merlin tenses.

“Not the hospital. They’d ask... I can’t.”

“Okay,” Arthur soothes him, petting his hair.

“Let me take you to mine.”

“I shouldn’t...”

“Let me take care of you,” Arthur says, overwhelmed by the strong need to protect.

“Why do you even care? I’m worthless, dirty, used,” Merlin spits out, trying to pull away from Arthur. “Four of them had me, day after day. They made me beg for it, like it.”

Arthur tightens his hold on Merlin, gritting his teeth as rage swells inside him. He wants to maim the scum who took advantage of a defenceless omega in heat. 

xXx

“Do you think you’ll be able to walk?”

Merlin nods tiredly and Arthur knows he’s going to carry him anyway.

xXx

Two hours and forty five minutes. That’s how long it takes for Arthur to realize he found his mate. 

xXx

He can’t go on like this. Five hours of tossing and turning, digging his fingers into a mattress to stop himself from going after Merlin. He needs to check if he’s alright. See for himself that he’s resting peacefully.

He doesn’t expect to find Merlin sleeping right in front of his door. 

xXx

“Why aren’t you in bed?” Arthur asks, checking Merlin’s forehead for fever.

“I feel safer closer to you.”

xXx

Even though they share the same bed every night, wrapped around each other, they take things slow. 

They deal with nightmares and sudden mood swings. Sometimes tremors set in and Arthur holds Merlin close while his mind struggles with painful memories. 

Sometimes Merlin talks to Arthur about various means to an end, doesn’t protest when Arthur doesn’t let him out of his sight for days afterwards.

xXx

Merlin’s heat arrives two months late.

xXx

Gently, Arthur touches Merlin’s body. He trails his lips down Merlin’s chest, soothing the almost pained moans with a kiss as Merlin comes untouched. 

Eyes glazed with need, Merlin whispers ”please” and “need you”, stilling and barely breathing when Arthur pushes in for the first time. 

xXx 

His body sated, the first wave of heat over, all the stress, pent-up emotions and fears spill out, flowing away with tears and loud sobs. Merlin recounts the details of his rape, each word pushing him closer to freedom.

xXx

The second wave of heat drags Merlin out of his slumber. He moans Arthur’s name, offering his neck for claiming.

xXx

Freshly forged mating bond thrumming through their veins, Arthur gathers the last bits of his energy to provide his beloved with aftercare. 

xXx

The pain of the past will never be forgotten, but it will fade in the light of thousands of future memories.

–--------------

20.

It wasn’t the longing that killed him, it was the watching. For months he was forced to watch them together. At first, he’d still had hope. At first, he hadn’t known they were anything more than master and servant. At first, he’d thought all he had to do was prove himself worthy, show that he was loyal and trustworthy. He would overcome _his_ mistrust by proving that it was an unfounded emotion. He _could_ be relied on, he wanted the same things, would fight for them. Once _he_ knew that, then surely Mordred could move forward, show _him_ that he was worthy of _his_ love. Then Emrys would fall as deeply in love with Mordred as Mordred had always been with him.

After a few weeks though, he finally began to notice that the King, that _Arthur_ didn’t treat Emrys as a master should, didn’t treat him as a mere servant. Well, of course, Mordred had noticed that right from the start but he’d thought what they had was a unique friendship, a bond of solidarity, of brotherhood. He’d been such a naive fool. 

It had taken running across them in a passionate clinch in the armoury for it to actually sink into Mordred’s hopeful little heart that the two were far more than friends, that _brotherhood_ had nothing to do with the fierce protectiveness they displayed for each other. The married King was _fucking his manservant._ Fucking him right out in the open where anyone who wandered past could easily catch him at it, where Mordred _had_ caught them at it.

He’d been unable to look away. Emrys-Merlin was glorious. He was spread out on one of the tables, the armour littering the floor a mute testament to the fact that one or the other of them had simply swept the surface clear of obstacles before making swift use of it. Stripped utterly bare, his pale, luminous skin was gleaming in the torchlight, slick with sweat and flushed with heat in the most delicious way. His long, slender legs were spread wide in obscene abandon, though the obscenity came not from Merlin’s pose but from the advantage the _King_ was taking of it.

Arthur was leaning between those lithe, elegant limbs, his fingers buried deep inside Emrys’s body, his lips caressing the achingly beautiful cock that rose long and smooth from the nest of inky curls that lay between those wide-spread thighs. Emrys’s back arched off the table, ecstatic moans escaping from the arched length of his pretty throat.

Aching heart in his throat, Mordred watched as Emrys convulsed, Arthur’s name on his lips. He watched as the king lapped up Emyrs’ offering and the first seeds of hate were sown in Mordred’s heart. Those seeds were fed and watered as Mordred began to track them both with his magic. As he spied on them again and again, watching as the king betrayed his queen’s devotion, as Emrys betrayed his own innocent love.

Love rejected turns to hate never-ending and betrayal begets betrayal. When Mordred sinks his dragon-forged blade into Arthur’s chest in the canyon of Camlann, he is not just killing the king, he is ending the cycle. When he falls to the earth beside Arthur, blade deep in his guts, he smiles knowing that this sharp, fleeting pain will end the agonizing beat of his long-wounded heart.


	6. Group B (no warnings)

21.

Merlin leaned his head back against Arthur’s shoulder and let the hot water wash away the pain and stress of the day. 

When they were in the market for a house, one of the “must-haves” had been a double shower, so they would have plenty of room for sharing their ablutions, as well as any sexual shenanigans that might come up. 

So to speak. 

When Merlin got home from work that night, Arthur had looked up from his book and immediately crossed the room to fold him in his arms. Merlin was still in his hospital scrubs, and he had looked beyond exhausted. 

“Did you lose one today?” 

“No,” Merlin answered. “But we had a very close call, and three new admissions, and we were short-staffed. I swore at an insurance representative, and I didn’t get a chance to sit down once all day.” 

“I’ll start a shower, you look cold,” Arthur had had said softly, rubbing his hands along Merlin’s arms. “You get out of those clothes. And after the shower I’ll heat up some dinner for you.” 

He grabbed a couple of towels from the linen closet and turned the faucets on. 

When he got back to their bedroom, Merlin was sitting on the bed with his eyes closed, and had made no effort to get undressed. 

When he saw Arthur he said wearily, “Every day it’s the same old shit. Pressure from the administration to do more with less, pressure from the insurance companies who care more about saving money than about saving a child. Lather, rinse, repeat.” 

Arthur knelt down and unlaced Merlin’s shoes, murmuring, “It’ll be okay. It’s just the end of a long day.” 

He knew how much Merlin loved his work as a pediatric oncology nurse, and he knew how good he was at it. But he also knew how much it took out of his husband to be battling the system all day. 

Fortunately, he also knew what Merlin needed. 

Arthur made short work of getting Merlin undressed, then shucked off his own clothes and got in the shower with him. He took a washcloth and squeezed some shower gel on it, and started washing the man he loved. 

First he cupped the back of Merlin’s head with one hand and gently rubbed the cloth across his face with the other, dipping it under the spray again to rinse. Then he soaped it up again and cleaned Merlin’s back and arms, ordering him to raise his arms so he could scrub his armpits. Then he carefully washed his chest and bent over to do his legs. 

Merlin stood passively through Arthur’s ministrations, his dick soft in its nest of curly dark hair. But Arthur was saving the best parts for last. 

He put the cloth aside and tipped the bottle of shower gel over into his hands, rubbing them together. 

He ran his soapy hands over Merlin’s ass cheeks, dipping into the crevice and rubbing two fingers flat across Merlin’s sensitive hole. He wasn’t trying to get in, but he knew Merlin liked being touched there. 

He could see Merlin’s dick perking up at this, and he took it into his hand, scrubbing at it gently and rubbing his thumb lightly around the head and over the slit. 

Merlin surged toward him, seeking more skin contact, but Arthur chided, “Not yet. We have to get you all clean first.” 

He rolled Merlin’s balls in one hand, laving them with the other slick hand. 

Merlin was hard by then, but Arthur stopped touching his body. Instead, he reached for the shampoo, and worked a good-sized dollop into the other man’s thick hair. 

Merlin loved having his hair washed, and had once admitted that sometimes just the spicy-herbal scent of the shampoo made him hard, remembering all the times Arthur had ministered to him. 

He groaned as Arthur used all ten fingers to deeply massage his scalp. Arthur always said that Merlin had the world’s best hair, and he loved working his hands through it. 

“Um, dying down here,” Merlin said, reaching for his cock. Arthur pushed his hand away, saying, “Not done yet.” 

So Merlin waited while Arthur rinsed, then put more shampoo in, and finally rinsed it out. Arthur took Merlin in hand then, and jerked him off one-handed, keeping the other hand tangled in Merlin’s hair. 

Merlin slumped in Arthur’s arms, whispering, “You always take such good care of me. I love you.” 

Merlin loves Arthur. Arthur loves Merlin. 

_Lather, rinse, repeat._

–----------------

22.

One tiny, infinitesimal slip of the tongue and Merlin finds himself summoned to evening office hours. Never mind that it was down to end-of-term stress and lack of sleep, that said lack of sleep was entirely a certain someone's fault.

"Professor," Merlin murmurs, closing the door.

"Ah, Mister Emrys, very good." Arthur looks up from his laptop, rubs his temple with a thick forefinger. "I trust you came prepared?"

Merlin nods. His palms feel damp, his throat dry. There's something about seeing Arthur like this, still buttoned up against his day…

"Have a seat." Arthur indicates the leather armchair wedged between the bookshelves and a window.

Merlin sits, stands, thinks _to hell with it, why waste time,_ and strips down to his pants. 

Arthur doesn’t blink. He closes his laptop, retrieves something from a desk drawer, and settles back into his chair. It's a nail file. 

Merlin shivers, arse muscles clenching around slick nothing.

" _Sit,_ " Arthur insists.

Merlin does. He feels the very definition of a hot mess, arse leaking lube, cock straining against his briefs, pale belly and thighs glaring against the nut-brown leather.

"You know why you're here?" Arthur lifts a brow, file poised above his left forefinger.

Merlin opens his mouth, thinks the better of it, then nods. The fleeting quirk of Arthur's lips tells him he's chosen wisely.

Arthur begins smoothing his nail in firm, even strokes. "As compelling a fictional distraction as Mister Milkovich may be for needy cocksuckers the world over, he has no place in my classroom, understood?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Whereas _Milankovitch_ was a man who used his mind, used _maths,_ to theorize the astronomical origins of historical climate change." 

Arthur pauses in his filing, admiring his handiwork before lifting his eyes to meet Merlin's. "Not that any of the little shits you tutor give a toss, but Milankovitch Cycles are on the exam, so…"

Merlin licks his lips. "So, perhaps you should – "

"Refresh your memory? Gladly." The nail file clatters on the desk. Arthur's up and looming over Merlin in three strides, undoing belt buckle, button, fly – freeing his pudgy cock – and fuck if Merlin's dick doesn't get wet at how he can do that without glancing down even _once._

"Up on your knees." Arthur says, fondling himself, tugging until he's got a fat, hard handful. "Turn around."

Merlin scrambles to obey. His pants are immediately yanked aside, exposing his hole, trapping everything else in a throbbing bundle against one leg.

"Eccentricity," Arthur says, slipping a finger – _that_ finger – inside. The ring feels cool and dense as the tip moves in a smooth, shallow circle. "Refers to the shape of a planet's orbit around the sun, whether it be circular or…"

Merlin sucks in a breath, arches his back as Arthur switches to a probing, elliptical in-and-out motion, grazing his prostate on each pass. 

"Got that, Emrys?"

"Mmm, yes, but – "

"Good. Now obliquity, or tilt – " Arthur stiffens his finger, stills it, the pad just resting on the sensitized flesh. " – refers to the angle of Earth's axis relative to its plane of orbit."

Merlin swears a blue streak as Arthur presses down, levering his hand this way, then that, knuckles pulling at the rim of Merlin's hole. 

Arthur chuckles. "Ah, I see you remember that one."

"Big fan of the tilt," Merlin mumbles, dropping his head onto his forearms.

"And finally..."

Arthur's finger disappears. Merlin clenches, mourning the loss; then he feels a clothed, solid weight draped along his bare back, hot breath on his neck.

"Precession. If I may?"

Merlin grunts. There's a nudge, a flare of intense pressure, then his arse is eating cock in slick inches, gobbling it up until he's stuffed full, can feel the scrape of Arthur's zip on his bared arsecheek.

"Precession's all about the Earth's wobble." Arthur grabs Merlin's hip and jiggles him, his own hips maddeningly still. "Like a spinning top that's winding down. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Merlin whispers.

"Show me." 

Merlin moans, swiveling his hips as he grinds in circles back on that glorious cock – frenetic at first, chasing the precision high of being fingered; then more slowly, relishing the fullness, the comforting cage of Arthur's body. 

" _Yes,_ sir," he pants. "Oh, sir, yessiryespleaseand… _ngh._ "

Coming's almost a surprise, a sweet, sharp shuddering into the twisted wreck of his pants. He fancies he sees stars.

Arthur pulls out and Merlin swallows the joke down, tucking it away for later, for home. He focuses on Arthur's wrecked breathing, the violent flurry of fist and cock, the warm spunk striping the backs of his thighs.

–-------------------------------------

23.

Based on the cycle of the year as depicted by the [Labours of the Months in Medieval art](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Labours_of_the_Months)

 

_February: Sitting by the fire_

"Come stay at mine tonight," Gwen says, tucking Merlin in against her side. 

He smiles, nods, and smiles again when she brushes the snowflakes from his fringe. By the time they reach the village, snow covers the castle, muffles their voices and footsteps, and lights the evening world with an eerie brightness.

Gwen tugs Merlin along to hurry him through the hush to her small house; she cups her hands over his pink ears as soon as they get inside. 

"You look cold." 

"You don't," Merlin murmurs, "you look so warm." He slides his arms under her cloak to hold Gwen close, then sinks into the kiss she gives him. 

And sinks onto the bed when she tugs him there, too. Gwen kisses Merlin again and again, harder each time until he sighs against her neck. His fingers reach to unlace her bodice, and Gwen shrugs off her cloak. 

Despite the banked fire, the house is chilly, and they undress slowly to keep their warmth close. Merlin kisses Gwen's neck and her breasts until she's wet between her thighs. She teases him, too, making him shiver with gentle touches to his stomach, making him tremble until they're both hot with need.

"I thought my first winter in Camelot would be so cold," Merlin says later, his head tucked against Gwen's chest. 

Gwen presses her face into Merlin's hair. "And I thought I'd be alone in this house." 

 

_May: Hawking; Courtly Love_

"Surely, hawking doesn't require this much finery and... poetry?"

Arthur frowns into the mirror. "I thought you liked poetry?"

"I do..." Merlin's voice trails off and when Arthur flicks his glance up to look at Merlin's reflection, he's still poring over the manuscript on Arthur's desk. 

Arthur watches Merlin for a few more moments: watches his long, slim fingers trace the images, watches his lips move as he reads the words, watches how he tenses his shoulders as he leans closer.

His gaze flicks back to his own reflection. He looks tired; he wishes Morgana were here to join the hawking party, to receive his favors with a sharp retort, to rest her hand above his racing heart and brush her lips against his bare skin.

"That's not actually a book of poetry, Merlin."

Merlin makes a sound of assent, but Arthur knows what picture he's pondering: the languishing lover and his lady. He is nothing like Morgana, not at all, yet there is something about the way Merlin looks at Arthur, the way he touches Arthur, that makes Arthur's heart leap in his chest once more. 

When he looks up again, Merlin is standing behind him. Their eyes meet in the reflection; Arthur drops his gaze just before Merlin's lips brush his ear. When he turns to kiss Merlin, his chest swells with both relief and desire.

He's longed for this, but has never known how to ask for it. 

 

_September: Grape Harvest_

When the harvest festivals begin, Arthur walks down to the lower town with Merlin and Gwen. His father would never have done this, but Arthur doesn't think twice about accepting the invitation. 

Merlin loves him for all this--for the smile on his face as Gwen place the first of the late summer fruits into his hand, for the way he hands out well-wishes to the people twice as often as he receives them, for the way he grasps Merlin's hand in his own for a brief moment before handing Merlin a cup of wine.

He loves Arthur, too, for the way he grasps Merlin's hand again as they enter the castle, for the way he smiles low and shy at Gwen, for the unvoiced need that he carries inside him. He loves the warm dizziness that wine gives him, and how Gwen's mouth tastes like sweet, crushed grapes.

When he undresses Arthur tonight, Merlin does not take care. He strips Arthur quickly with fumbling fingers and almost pushes him down onto the bed. Merlin takes more care with Gwen, then lets her undress him and pull him down next to Arthur. 

He cannot give them back everything they've lost, not even with his magic, but he can try and give them something new, something that will last well past the coming winter.

–-----------------------

24.

“ _Dragonlord_ ,” people would hiss out like a curse as he walked by.

He was never welcomed in towns for long once they realized what he was. _Who_ he was. No one wanted to be subjected to his level of well-intentioned trickery. And he could not blame them. The cost of the aftermath was often a high one.

The dragons were a dying species, unable to properly breed with one another due to the combined magic being too strong. So they learned to take on human forms. They learned to breed with those the dragonlords preselected for them. The unknown victims.

Merlin had to beg to get this room for the night. He swore to the innkeeper he was on his way out of town, would not sneak out in the night, and would leave at first light.

He was done with this village anyways.

Heavy footsteps creaked just outside his room and the door swung open, prompting Merlin to stand.

“Done already?” his shoulders slumped. “Please tell me you liked my choice this time.”

Arthur, one of the Pendragons, and one of Merlin’s favorite species, shook his head. “She was of no interest to me.” He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and walking well into Merlin’s space.

Merlin knew what was about to happen. It had happened before and it would probably happen again. The dragons had to prepare themselves to breed, and if someone wasn’t there to help them finish the cycle they started, an alternative had to be found.

Merlin didn’t mind being an alternative. Because Arthur was a strong part of the reason pendragons were his favorite.

“Someday, I’m going to find you the right one,” he said with a shake of his head. “And someday, you’re going to have to like her.” 

And when that day came, Merlin knew something deep inside of him was likely to crack.

Arthur mirrored Merlin’s shaking head. “Never,” he swore, unpinning his cloak and letting it fall to the floor.

Merlin sank into Arthur’s kiss, his brow furrowing as he noticed all the small, human nuances the dragon had picked up in their times together. Such as the cradling of his cheek. Or how his lips trailed his jaw. And the way he seemed to worship Merlin’s body once they were both naked and on the bed.

Turning over onto his hands and knees, Merlin braced himself as he was breeched. Each and every dragon species was built differently, but the one thing they all had in common was a large girth. The stretch took Merlin’s breath away every time and as Arthur sank in deeper, Merlin let out a low groan.

“Nothing could ever compare to this feeling.”

Those words made Merlin want to come then and there.

Arthur’s thrusts were powerful, even as his large, rough hands roamed over Merlin’s body. It was as if he could never get over how human flesh felt in comparison to his usual scaly skin. It was as he ran his palms up and down Merlin’s inner thighs that the dragonlord broke.

“Arthur. Arthur, you damn tease, just give it to me, you know I can take it. I want it. Please. Please!”

One hand sliding up over Merlin’s lower abdomen and chest, holding him against Arthur’s body, and the other wrapping around his straining erection, Arthur gave it to him.

Merlin was plunged into and soon he could feel his entrance slicking up as Arthur’s precome began to leak in preparation. Merlin’s hand reached up to grip Arthur’s golden hair, a slight trill of fear spiking through his pleasure fogged body.

The pain was enough for Arthur, and with a cry, his knot began to swell, forcing him to reduce his thrusts into small, quick pushes as he became trapped in Merlin’s body. Still mindful, Arthur’s hand began to move, warring back Merlin’s discomfort with gratification.

“Merlin,” Arthur breathed, his voice hitching on the word. “Merlin…”

Merlin felt the exact moment Arthur’s orgasm hit him. His knot swelled and his cock seemed to strain from deep within before bursting in a long, slow series of pulses that had Arthur trembling and moaning with excursion. His hand on Merlin had stilled, his body no longer able to function in any other capacity aside from breeding Merlin full.

It was in this moment that dragons were the most vulnerable.

“ _Merlin, Merlin, Meeerrr—lin_ , you will never—” the words sounded as if they were coming through gritted teeth. “—never, Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, we don’t love—I don’t—Merlin, I don’t know why, don’t—understand—Merlin, Merlin, Merlin—love you—”

Merlin’s orgasm hit him with a force he never thought possible. His muscles seized and pulsed painfully around Arthur’s knot, causing Arthur to whimper as his limbs loosened in the hold they had around the dragonlord. 

As Merlin’s mind came back to him, he realized there were tears on his cheeks, and he gently guided them to roll onto their side. Arthur was still gone; his lower body was tense with tremors and soft whines peeled from his throat at his prolonged orgasm. Occasionally, his hips would push forward, and Merlin’s name would choke its way past his lips. 

Drifting off to sleep, Merlin wondered if maybe he would be safe from eventual heartbreak after all. 

–------------------- 

25\. 

**Note:** Fusion with _Ladyhawke_ (1985). 

Night. Frost crunched under the cat’s paws as it paced towards home, beads of blood decorating its muzzle. 

The cat didn’t know why it went home. Every night it roamed the woods, and every morning, in the hours before dawn, something – some scent – would guide it back to the same spot, the same green hollow in the ground, where it would curl and sleep as the first of the sunlight seeped across the ridge. 

__

*

Freya woke up, filthy, with blood on her lips. She squinted, the greenish sunlight filtering through the trees hurting her eyes. She began to crawl across the forest floor to the hollow tree where she’d stowed an old sack. From the sack she drew a thong for her tangled hair, and a dress, and a handful of nuts.

As she ate her meagre breakfast, there was a beating of wings overhead. She looked up and saw the hawk settling upon a branch above her head; and she smiled. She reached out a hand, whispering softly to tempt it down.

The hawk settled on her arm. It looked at her and began to preen itself. Probably it didn’t know why it came to her, but it always did. Freya stroked its feathers lightly with a finger, making soothing noises, and said, “shh. It won’t be long now.”

*

It had been four years since the curse, and half a year since they’d taken to living in their hollow. They were safe there, hidden as it was; but that morning Freya left, with her sack in one hand and her hawk flying overhead.

She left the hollow, left the woods, walked half a day to a place where atop a steep hill there stood a ring of white stones – a place where she used to come with her people, before the purge. It should have been teaming with people, Freya knew, on a day so sacred, but there was only her, and the hawk. She left the hawk flying about the stones and sat upon the ground, rooting through her sack for food and water.

The sun was standing high in the sky, but soon it would be gone, for a little while. Freya sat hunched against a white stone, and stared at the hawk flying overhead.

*

The hawk flew lower and lower as the light began to dim, at last settling on the stone at the centre of the ring, the altar-stone. There it cried out plaintively as the last of the sunlight died away.

Its cry fading to soft, gasping breaths as it transformed; and Freya’s eyes watered as she stared, drinking in the sight of the woman on the altar stone.

Mithian’s hair fell in clumps about her head, and she was staring at Freya, staring at her as if she was a ghost. Did she know what was happening? Freya didn’t know. 

“Freya, what –”

“Hush.” Freya crawled across the grass to the altar stone. “We don’t have long.” Her fingers touched the cold, white stone, and her lips touched Mithian’s hot mouth.

How long did they have? Minutes, perhaps. She shucked off her dress and kissed Mithian again, their bodies pressing together. There was a scar on Mithian’s cheek that hadn’t been there four years ago.

Mithian was talking, babbling about all sorts of things, about how she’d passed the years they’d been apart, and Freya wanted to listen, wanted to drink in every word – but she wanted to touch, wanted to put her hands and her lips on every part of Mithian’s body. She rubbed her cheek against the tense skin of Mithian’s belly.

“Here,” said Mithian, “here –” Her hands, her strong hands, were pulling Freya up, up.

She’d been afraid all day, afraid that it won’t work, afraid that if it did they wouldn’t know each other anymore – but they still knew each other. They fell into each other with in a messy rush, Freya straddling Mithian’s thigh, her fingers buried in the hot, wet place between Mithian’s legs, their breaths mingling, their hearts pounding.

The darkness about them was abating. “I won’t go back,” Mithian was panting, “I won’t, I won’t –” She cried out, and if it was pleasure or pain Freya didn’t know; she closed her eyes and gasped as she came, seeing bright lights inside her eyelids.

She caught one last glimpse of Mithian before the sun was shining down on them, and with a queer burst of light she was a hawk.

–------------------------------

26.

Merlin wakes up to Arthur’s lips around his morning wood, which, in all honesty, is his favourite way to wake up. He doesn’t open his eyes, trying to savour sleep for a bit longer, but moves his hand to Arthur’s soft hair. Running his hand through it, he carefully urges Arthur on. It’s sweet and slow, on the verge of being too much and not enough at the same time. When Merlin does open his eyes, it’s to Arthur looking up at him, smiling with Merlin’s thick cock stretching his mouth. It doesn’t take much more than that.

Afterwards, they stay in bed a little too long for a work day – kissing, caressing, just being. Merlin strokes Arthur’s hair, plays with it and twirls it between his fingers. It’s getting too long again, but it’s the perfect length to run your fingers through. He presses his lips to Arthur’s, getting a satisfied hum in return.

Eventually, they need to get up. There’s money and work and responsibilities to be earned and done and taken care of. They share a kiss on the doorstep before going their separate ways: Merlin to the tube, and Arthur fastening his helmet and hopping on his bike to ride to work.

Merlin looks after him when Arthur turns the corner and disappears. Sighing, he turns around and walks toward the station.

\---

_“Marry me?” Arthur says, fingers shaking slightly as he takes the thin, silver ring out of the box and reaches for Merlin’s hand._

_Like Merlin could ever say no to Arthur. Like he ever would._

\---

Merlin receives the phone call three minutes after he arrives at work.

\---

_They spend the evening curled up on the sofa, like they always do, but this time it’s different. Merlin is hyper aware of the ring on his finger and he can feel Arthur’s, too, where their fingers are entwined. Happy, he turns his head and kisses Arthur’s neck._

_He gets a small smile in return._

\---

It’s still rush hour, so the taxi ride takes far longer than it should. When Merlin is close enough to run, he pays the driver and abandons the car.

Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God...

\---

 _Arthur takes him to bed and opens him up slowly, too slowly, and Merlin swears at him for being not only a tease, but a horrible person in general. Arthur just laughs and curls his fingers just right, effectively shutting Merlin up. They whisper wedding plans in each other’s ears, which start out normal and sweet, but quickly turn ridiculous and vulgar – but it’s_ them _and it’s_ fun _and when Merlin can’t stop laughing, Arthur kisses him slowly and carefully, whispering a quiet “I love you” into his mouth._

\---

Afterwards, he doesn’t remember anything except arriving at the hospital in a state of barely contained panic, the calm, matter-of-fact voice of the surgeon, and the bland tea he is served in the waiting room.

He doesn’t remember Morgana, Uther, or Hunith arriving. He doesn’t remember Morgana breaking down in tears, or Hunith taking him home. He doesn’t remember anything about the next three days.

Eventually, Hunith has to leave his side to go out for food. 

There’s a sudden loud, metallic noise outside. Merlin slowly gets out of bed and treads quietly down the stairs. He opens the front door and finds the remains of the bike lying on the pavement outside the house. The metal is twisted and it hardly resembles a bike anymore, but Merlin knows it’s Arthur’s. It’s the same beautiful red it always was, except where the paint has been scraped off at the crash. Merlin sits down beside it, not caring about the cold pressing into his limbs. He traces the small golden dragon on the back of the seat with his fingers.

He doesn’t start crying until Hunith returns and coaxes him back into bed.

And then he can’t stop.

\---

_“Baby names for a girl, Merlin?”_

_Merlin takes Arthur’s hand and squeezes it gently. “We’re not even married yet, clotpole.”_

_Arthur gives him a kiss._

_“Still. It’s never too soon to plan for the future.”_

–----------------------

27.

Ygraine ran her hand over Uther’s back, her legs parting for him and embracing him like a soldier returning from battle. He wasn’t just any soldier, he was the King and they weren’t just making love, they were making a prince.

Her golden hair flowed over the pillows, a tangled mess that Uther ran his fingers through as he pushed into her, filling her entirely. She couldn’t imagine not becoming pregnant the first time he bedded her but it hadn’t happened, nor had it happened in the several years after.

She rocked her hips up to meet his, desperate to help them conceive in any way they could and when she felt the first rush of his seed spilling, she clung onto him, milking him for every last drop.

Long after he had fallen asleep, she was still awake; daydreaming of boys’ names and wooden toys. She pressed her thighs together as if it would stop the possibility from running away from her.

-

A week later, she wept at the sharp pains that came with her bleeding. She would not have a child this month, just like every month that had gone before. She suspected she never would. She could feel it in her very soul, something crucial was missing between them and everything natural told her it was not meant to be.

But they lived in an age where natural was not the be all and end all of all things. She took Uther’s hand and placed it on her belly. “Talk with Nimeuh, she promises you will have a son.”

The deal was made and the rituals performed. With Uther inside her and the knowledge it would work, she clung to him even tighter. Her body told her it was not meant to be and she would not survive it but when Uther held her afterwards, his head pressed against her belly, as if he might hear his child’s laughter already, she decided it was worth it.

-

Gwen smiled down at her King, lowering herself onto his cock and planting her hands on his chest. He was looked like a dream, with his golden hair against the white pillow. She loved it best like this, being able to see him entirely while riding his cock.

They’d never discussed children. She knew it was a delicate issue, given how his mother had died in childbirth, a fact he still blamed himself for. But at the back of her mind lingered a hope. Perhaps this time. Camelot was at peace, Morgana had not been seen for nearly a year and the knights’ ranks were strong again. Now would be the perfect time.

When she felt him finish inside her, she leaned down, close enough to kiss him through it. His hand slipped between their bodies and stroked her clit, drawing her down to share his pleasure.

Afterwards, she dreamed of Arthur holding a baby in his arms but when she woke, he was only holding her.

-

A little over a month later, Gwen woke to find her nightdress and the sheets stained. She hadn’t been prepared. She’d thought... It didn’t matter now.

She woke Arthur and in his sleepy state, he rolled out of bed without questioning her. It was only after he’d splashed some water over his face that he realised she was stripping the bed. “Merlin can do that.”

“Really, you can’t ask him to,” Gwen said, her voice tight, her skin flushed. “I can manage.”

“Guinevere,” Arthur said, taking her hands away from the sheets before she ripped them. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s stupid,” she said reluctantly, hating the tears in her eyes. “I shouldn’t have given it thought but I was late this month. I thought I might be...” She lowered her voice, as though she was about to share a secret. “Pregnant.”

“It’s not stupid,” Arthur assured her, pulling her close and kissing her head.

She bit her lip, angry tears finally falling. “I’m sorry; I should be able to... I’m your wife, I’m meant to give you an heir. Otherwise what good am I?”

“Now you are being silly,” Arthur said, tilting her face so he could look into her eyes. “You are more important to me than anything, including carrying on the Pendragon line. If I’m not meant to have a child then I am grateful it’s you who will bear my name instead. I love you.”

Gwen kissed him, not realising just how worried she’d been until relief lifted the weight from her.

–-------------------

28.

The cycle repeated every spring since Arthur came of age. Uther invited nobles from every corner of the realm so their eligible maidens could vie for Arthur’s attention. A good mate would ensure a strong alliance with a neighboring kingdom.

Last year, King Rodor brought his daughter, decked in white fur and borne on a sled of wild edibles from the most remote corners of the northern lands.

The year before, Queen Annis paraded her twins before Arthur. Flowers wreathed each maiden's head. Their retinue hauled heavy wagons laden with azaleas and the pear trees that now took root beside Camelot’s eastern courtyard.

Like the others that visited in past years, they too met with Arthur’s disinterest. They returned to Caerleon, leaving their scented flowers behind—so many that even Merlin donned a floral crown while he freshened Arthur's chambers and polished his armor.

Arthur remembered the tendrils of greenery that spilled down Merlin’s neck. The sweet scent of hyacinth wafted above Arthur’s bed long after Merlin finished changing his linens.

Tonight, when Olaf’s daughters wrapped their lithe bodies in silk and danced for the prince, Arthur merely yawned and beckoned Merlin to fill his tankard.

Arthur was already deep in his cups when he spied Merlin sneaking sips of wine from the gilded chalices as he cleared them from the high table. It was of no consequence. Merlin had attended Arthur in every season, whether the Pendragons negotiated a treaty with a sworn enemy or whether they courted a mate for a prince.

When the evening ended, Arthur stumbled up the stone steps to his chambers, glad for Merlin’s strong arms to guide him.

“Come, Sire,” Merlin said as they entered Arthur’s bedchamber. “It's time you got some rest.”

Arthur collapsed into his favourite chair and waited for Merlin to ready him for sleep. Merlin pressed his lips into a thin line, taking his manservant business far too seriously for Arthur’s liking.

“Really, Merlin,” Arthur said, muzzy-headed enough to tease. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Merlin grinned and knelt to remove Arthur’s boots. “The princesses danced beautifully,” Merlin said when he dropped the second boot to the floor. He used the armrests of the chair to pull himself to his feet. “I see one left you a token of her admiration.”

Arthur hadn’t noticed the length of silk that had been draped around his neck. He laughed and pinched the fine gossamer with the fingers of both hands. Holding his arms wide, he wrapped the fabric across Merlin's shoulders.

“Did you enjoy their dancing?” Merlin asked. With eyes crinkled in delight, he seized the silk and swayed from side to side as if dancing to an imaginary lute.

“They don’t enchant me as much as my father would think,” Arthur said, tugging open the laces of his surcoat.

"I don't suppose so," Merlin said, spinning away.

Arthur threw his head back and laughed as Merlin baltered around the bedchamber with the silk, his dancing skills no better than when he arrived from Ealdor as a teen.

“What is it, my lord?” Merlin asked, releasing the silk from his fists. He climbed into Arthur's lap and straddled his thighs. “My dancing doesn’t please you?”

Arthur’s hands found Merlin’s slim hips, the rough fabric of his tunic beneath his palms. “It pleases me more than you know,” Arthur said.

Merlin nodded and leaned forward, any propriety forgotten. He framed Arthur’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply, while Arthur cupped Merlin’s arse and pulled him close. Merlin circled his hips, still dancing to the music in his head.

Arthur listened to Merlin’s breath quicken when their hardened cocks rubbed beneath their clothes. He thrust upward and smiled when it made Merlin tilt his head back, lips parted in a soft moan. Feeling his crown shift, Arthur caught it in his hand before it could slip from his head. At the sudden movement, Merlin looked at him through his lashes. Unable to resist, Arthur set the crown in Merlin’s soft hair and ran a knuckle down his cheek.

Without further consideration of sleep, Arthur hoisted Merlin from their seat and dropped him on the bed. He sucked Merlin’s cock until he spilled, the thick cream as sweet as the frosting on the cook's finest cake.

For years, the cycle of princesses banqueted in the great hall before Arthur, each potential mate more exotic than the next. But none could compare to the companion who already slept at his side.

–------------------------------

29.

Merlin was running late again. Blue beanie pulled low over his ears, he pushed his way through the early morning crowd at Daegal’s Cafe. He glanced down at his wristwatch and muttered a curse getting a few frowns in the process. Ducking his head in apology, he stumbled against somebody.

“Watch where you’re going!” 

“Sorry” was already on the tip of his tongue when he glanced up. The stranger, dressed in a suit probably costing more money that what Merlin made in year, glared at him. 

Merlin hesitates. For the barest of seconds, like a twinge one might feel in healed bones on rainy days, he thinks about apologizing and walking away. 

But there’s a phantom ache, something familiar and bittersweet. He arches an eyebrow instead, staring at the stranger, “Are you sure you shouldn’t be the one apologizing?”

The man narrows his eyes, blue eyes sparking in anger and something else. Challenge, he thinks and the world tilts as-

Merlin leans back slightly as Arthur, pulls him close. The air is heavy with smoke and sweat and he can still taste the whiskey sour he had earlier on his tongue.

“Come back to mine,” Arthur says, his breath warm and low against Merlin’s ear. Arthur’s not Merlin’s type. Too blond and too blue blooded with one foot still firmly in the closet.

But Arthur’s hands are sure and steady against Merlin’s hips. His thumb, rubbing circles in an all familiar way and Merlin’s shudders, feeling the world narrow down to a brief moment.

“Yeah sure,” he says, twisting around to look at Arthur. Something slots in place when Arthur gives him a heated look while pulling him out the club.

The ride back to Arthur’s apartment is full of furtive looks and barely held arousal. And they're already kissing before they even make it past the door. 

Arthur pulls them through with their lips still locked, hands already tugging and discarding clothes as they make their way to the bedroom.

Merlin presses Arthur down on the bed, straddling him as he looks down. Arthur grins up at him, cheeks flushed, lips swollen red and blond hair tousled from where Merlin had ran his hand through. 

Splaying his hand across Arthur’s chest is a memory learned and memorized. Merlin’s breath catches-

He sees Arthur looking back up at him, eyes bright with love. 

“Are you going to be just staring at me all day,” Arthur says, voice amused.

Merlin rocks his hips, thrusting down and watches as Arthur’s eyes dilate further, fingers bruising tight against his hip.

“Merlin,” Arthur says, in exasperation and benediction rolled in one. There’s too much fondness, too much love in between the words. They don’t need to speak of love or what they would choose because it was woven with every press of skin, with every warm breath.

The world is at at war but here in the quiet edge of their bedrolls, sheltered away from (and yet too close) to the gunfire, they trace stories they had always known onto each other's skin.

The next day when they're facing the Germans deep in the trenches, Merlin watches Arthur as he weaves in between the soldiers.

 

It's not too long after that Arthur finds him, the rifle once so awkward, steady in his hands.

"They say the war will be over soon," Arthur says after a moment.

Merlin turns-

Eyes widening as he sees the sword wound. It wasn't meant to have happened this way. The prophecy had spoke about the future, but the future turns to ash as Arthur falls.

"Arthur," the words break and fall apart and Merlin rushes to catch him. Arthur is heavy against him, face too pale and sweaty.

"You said you were the best swordsman in the realm," Merlin says weakly, tears flickering against his eyelids. His hands are too shaky, but Arthur's eyes are clear.

"I am."

"So what do you call this?"

"A lucky shot," Arthur says as he grimaces.

"We need to take you to a healer--"

"No, there won't be time--"

"Arthur--"

"Merlin." It's an oath, a promise, something more than fate or destiny. Their choice across a thousand lifetimes.

Merlin holds onto to Arthur, watches as their men fall to the Roman legion around them. Holds on as Arthur breathes become shallow and his body more limp. It takes four men to pull him away from Arthur's body when they find him. 

 

~*~  
"Just hold me." And Merlin does long after the waters of Avalon carried Arthur away.

–----------------------------------

30.

Elena first sees the swan on one of her rides. It's beautiful, all graceful lines as it glides across the small lake, leaving barely a ripple behind. She's struck breathless by it, and watches for nearly half of an hour, jealous of how effortlessly elegant the bird is when she can barely manage a curtsy without falling on her face.

She returns home before sunset, but that night, she dreams of white feathers and pink, demure smiles.

\---

She can't understand why she's so captivated by it, but again and again, Elena finds herself going out of her way to ride to the lake. The bird is always there, alone and still on the water. It never bothers her, even when she stays on the banks for hours. She tries tempting it with food, once or twice, but it only bows its head at her and floats away.

It's quiet and peaceful and rapidly becoming Elena's favourite place, her own secret hideaway in the forest. She can just _be_ , only sharing her time with a swan.

\---

Lulled to sleep by the dying afternoon sun and her packed lunch, Elena wakes just as evening is falling. The sun is almost fully set. She groans to herself and sits up. Her father is away, off negotiating some treaty with Mercia, but Grunhilda surely will have noticed her absence by now. She begins gathering her things, already preparing herself for the chastising she's in for, when she hears the sound of rushing water.

She turns and stares. Her swan is rising from the water, wings spread. The last rays of the sun's light strikes the water's reflection, bathing everything in a golden light. The afterimage of the light show plays on the inside of Elena's eyelids, and when she opens her eyes again, the swan is gone. Instead, a woman swims her way towards Elena.

There's something inexplicably familiar about her, pale skin and dark hair and pink lips, and as she steps onto the shore, water cascading down her naked body, Elena can only gawp. "Where's my swan?"

The woman's laugh is not unkind, but there's a bitterness underlying it. "My name is Mithian."

\---

Now, Elena's sneaking out later in the evening. She still spends hours by the lake, only now, it's more often bathed in moonlight, and instead of watching her swan, she watches Mithian. Her voice is like a bell, clear and beautiful and enchanting, and Elena's favourite pastime has rapidly become trying to coax laughs from the woman. It's clear the effort is appreciated, especially as Mithian has had little to laugh about in some time. 

"We'll find some way to break the curse," Elena promises, over and over. But by the time the sun rises, Mithian is always a swan once more.

\---

"My father wants me to come with him to Camelot."

"Perhaps you should."

Elena lifts her head from where it had been resting on Mithian's stomach. It's hard to see her friend's expression in the light of the quarter moon. Not for the first time, she desperately aches to see how sunlight would light up Mithian's face.

"I won't leave you," she says. "You'll be here all alone."

Mithian sits up and reaches out, framing the sides of Elena's face with long, slender fingers. "You can't spend the rest of your nights here, in the middle of nowhere with me. No matter how much you want to."

Elena's answer is little more than a snarl as she pushes Mithian back to the ground and climbs atop her. "Watch me," she says, and leans in, covering the woman's mouth with her own. Though they'd never done this before, Elena isn't surprised in the slightest when Mithian kisses back without hesitation. "Elena. Love, please."

"I love you," Elena says when they draw back, panting. "I'll spend every night here if I have to." Mithian's hands have come back to caress her cheeks again, and Elena leans into the pressure as she unbuttons the dress she'd given Mithian. Her fingers part Mithian's legs easily and slip into the wetness there, curling up and drawing the most delicious gasps and moans from Mithian's throat. "I'll look for a cure every day, and I'll come back here and we can do this every night."

She suspects the tears on Mithian's face aren't solely from overstimulation.

\---

Elena isn't sure when she falls asleep, but when she wakes in the morning, it's to sunlight, laughter, and decidedly human lips on hers.

–---------------

31.

Percival is in heat.

He squirms, curses silently, but there's nothing to be done. His veins are pumping his too-hot blood south, and there's a slick open feeling between his legs. Maybe if he can change his breeches he'll escape Gwaine's notice until they get home. But maybe not. He's oozing, dripping wet, perfectly omega-ripe and it feels so good, except ... at home he could feign sickness, satisfy himself well enough til it passes - but he has work to do.

And Gwaine smells good. Percival rocks his hips as subtly as he can, hands in his lap, pressure on and off his hardening cock, his needy backside. It _feels_ good.

Gwaine looks up from the fire. 'What's that smell?' he asks, looking around. He scents Percival almost immediately. 'Sweet mother of god,' he says. 'It's you. You're -'

'Omega,' says Percival wretchedly. 'I know. I - it's - I can control it, I promise. It's not a problem, I just -' He knows he's blushing.

Gwaine leans forward. 'You're in heat,' he says, worshipfully, hungrily. Percival's body responds to it - leaning back, knees parting. 'Can I help you with that?' Gwaine asks.

Percival groans, the urges he's been trying to hold back punching through. Can't. Shouldn't. Want to. _Need -_

'Please,' he moans through clenched teeth. Suddenly, shockingly, Gwaine is there, mouth, hands, weight, tearing off clothes like digging for treasure, and it's all Percival can do to keep up, desperate to roll over for Gwaine, kneel and spread, be good, get bred -

But Gwaine grins when he has them both bare, sweating in the evening air, and asks 'how do you want it?' Not just taking, like the alphas Percival's known before, who said he was too big and tough to be a proper omega, and needed to be shown.

'I -' Percival stutters, 'I don't know.'

Gwaine strokes Percival's cock. 'You could let me lick you,' he suggests. 'Or I could suck you, put my fingers in you -'

'Don't you want to just fuck me?' Percival gasps, thrusting helplessly into Gwaine's hand. 'Please, Gwaine, I need -'

'Oh sweetheart,' Gwaine purrs, and the petname in that alpha rumble wrings clenching want from Percival's gut, 'of course I do, and I swear I will, but you're too delicious like this to waste. I want to suck, fuck, taste, want you inside me, my fingers inside you - Christ, so many things.' He shakes himself, pressed so tight against Percival and making him moan. 'But what do _you_ want?'

Percival's head is spinning, but he knows what he wants, deep in the wet hot core of him, and Gwaine will give it to him. He shoves wildly until Gwaine moves, scrabbles onto his hands and knees, presenting himself, hungry for the pleasure of a proper mating, too frantic for play. 'I _want,'_ he says, growling deep even though he's omega, 'to be _fucked.'_

At first, Gwaine just gently touches Percival's arse and Percival is afraid suddenly that he will be teased, won't get his choice after all, but then Gwaine slams home and Percival's body melts into it, cock heavy between his legs, knees weak, blood humming.

'Like that?' Gwaine demands, knot at the base of his cock already threatening to swell and making Percival wild. No-one ever - he's not small or pretty like a proper omega and the times he's been knotted before it hasn't been til his own orgasm, til his own heat-scent pushed the alpha over the edge. But Gwaine seems turned on by more than just natural urges. Percival realises he's moaning that out loud too late.

'Jesus,' Gwaine swears, thrusting harder, beginning of his knot catching at Percival's hole. 'Those bastards didn't fucking deserve you. You're amazing. So strong -' he punches in and sticks this time, swelling, and Percival can feel himself burning up, ready, close. '- and brave. Gorgeous -'

Percival loses track of the praise, coming in messy spurts on the ground and Gwaine isn't far behind, cock jerking inside Percival, locked tight and perfectly scratching the unfathomable itch of heat.

'And if you ever need more convincing,' Gwaine pants into Percival's sweaty shoulder, 'Come see me when you're not in heat. I swear, I'll knot you any time you want.'

–-----------------------------

32.

Once the tests came back clean and they’d been given the all-clear, they told their friends. 

“What? Why didn’t you ask me to get you pregnant?” was the first thing Merlin said. 

“Sweetie,” Gwen said, brow pinching. “You’re gay.” 

“So? So’s Arthur.” 

“Uh, I’m bi,” Arthur corrected. Merlin shrugged. Morgana rolled her eyes and leaned across the table, making their teacups rattle dangerously as she pulled Gwen into a big hug. 

“I’m so happy for you,” she said, smiling bright. Gwen pressed a big kiss to her cheek, excited and terrified and oh god she was going to make a baby. 

+

“So,” Gwen said, after the first time. Arthur had his hands over his face, her sheets tangled around his legs. 

“I’m really sorry,” he said, muffled. “I’m not used to doing this without protection.” 

Gwen patted him. “They say most couples conceive within a year, so it’s not like there’s a rush.”

“Right!” Arthur sat up, catching her around the waist with one arm. “Practice!” 

And he tugged her back down to the bed in a hail of laughter. 

+

They had a spreadsheet in their dropbox that helped them schedule around her cycle. Merlin kept editing it to add clip-art ducklings and hearts in the margins. 

“If I decide to have a second baby, I promise I’ll come to you first,” Gwen said, cuddling him. He laughed, bashful but clearly appeased. 

“Dibs on the third child, then,” Morgana said. 

“Naturally,” Gwen agreed. Arthur didn’t comment, just squeezed her thigh under the table, making her squirm. 

\+ 

“The schedule is becoming meaningless at this rate,” she said after opening the door to find him on her step a week early. Again. 

“What can I say?” He’d hardly kicked the door closed behind him before shuffling her back onto her couch. “I’m a hard worker. Diligent, even.” 

“I’ll be sure to make a note of it on your performance review,” she said, biting her lip as he nosed her panties aside and plied her with his tongue. “Extra points for effort, though what you hope to accomplish like this I— I can’t really guess.” Her voice went higher and thinner as he settled in, using his thumbs to keep her spread against his mouth. 

“A happy vagina is a fertile vagina,” he hummed, and she laughed so hard she almost brained him with her knee. 

“Vaginas aren’t fertile!” 

“Uterus then, you bloody pedant. Would you believe you’re the only woman I’ve ever known to complain about my dedication to the art of eating out?” 

She could feel him grinning, skimming his teeth gently against her labia and making her arch against him. 

“Not complaining,” she promised, sinking her hands into his hair. “Never complaining — _god_ , Arthur, yes!” 

+

 

When they’d first started talking about it, Gwen had worried things might get awkward. She never anticipated drowning in a sea of Morgana’s knitted onesies, or Merlin’s insistence on engineering the perfect crib and matching pram. 

So, delightfully not-awkward, for the most part. 

There was only the little voice in her head telling her she could get used to having Arthur in her bed every night that left her burying her face in her hands. 

+

“I’m gonna come,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, making her jolt with lust. He hitched her up hard into the cradle of his hips, rocking deep and groaning into her cheek, her neck, biting the join of her shoulder while his cock twitched and she struggled to catch her breath. 

His hands tightened on her hips when she moved to pull away, skin squeaking against the wood of her dining room table. 

“I need to get horizontal,” she said, nosing against the soft hair at his temple. 

“Not yet,” he said. She shivered when he slid a hand up her nape and into her hair, his other hand crawling around her hip until he got his fingers on her clit, rubbing fast and light. 

“It’s all going to come out like this,” she said, grinding against his fingers, his cock still fat and heavy inside her. 

“Then we’ll do it again,” he said, playing with her until she cried out, hot come sliding down his shaft and smearing between their thighs. “Practice,” he reminded her. 

+

His reaction to the positive home test surprised her. 

She hardly noticed when he set her back on the ground, still floating on the high of being kissed. 

“I don’t want to stop having sex,” she blurted, elation spurring her into honesty. 

“Oh, thank god,” he said, sweeping her into his arms again.

–---------------------------

33.

“Arthur, think about this!” Merlin kept his voice to a harsh whisper, even before he had closed Arthur’s chamber door. 

Arthur's sigh was just short of a groan. “Merlin, we _have been_ through this.” Merlin folded his arms, raising one judgment brow. “Look, it’s instrumental in the peace treaty. And really, if my father were still alive, he would have had my marriage be a political move anyway.”

“Yes, but your father is _not_ alive.” Merlin’s hands flew up in frustration. “What about Gwen?”

Arthur slammed his hand on the heavy wooden table. “Watch yourself, Merlin. You're coming close to stepping above your place.”

“But--”

“That’s enough! The marriage between myself and a person chosen by the Druids will take place in a moon’s cycle. It’s a gesture of goodwill, and an good alliance.”

“You’re throwing away your heart, Arthur,” Merlin said, quieter in an attempt to reason with Arthur one last time.

“Leave, Merlin, before I have you thrown out.”

***

“Why won’t Arthur listen to reason?!” Merlin was beyond frustrated with Arthur’s dismissal of his own heart. He _knew_ Gwen and Arthur were meant to be together. Even a blind man could see that! She would make a great queen of Camelot: someone Arthur could turn to, as Merlin was doing now.

“Maybe it’s for the best, Merlin.” Gwen’s needle worked the embroidery thread of the red jacket, adding a special flare for Arthur’s upcoming wedding. “Arthur and I...I just think we weren’t meant to be.”

“Where is this coming from, Gwen?” 

“Lancelot asked for my hand, and I told him yes.” 

Merlin felt the air leave him.

"Listen, Merlin. You _can_ save Arthur."

"How?" Merlin didn't see an angle where he could get Arthur out of this and keep the peace treaty between Camelot and the Druids.

Gwen stopped her needle work. "Now is not a time for pretenses, Merlin. _You_ can save Arthur."

"But, Gwen-"

"Merlin, you're magical. Don't deny it, I have eyes." Gwen sighed. "Merlin, Arthur doesn't really love me, because he loves someone he doesn't think he can have. _That_ is why he is walking into this treaty so readily."

Merlin bit his lip, trying to plot out his next move.

***

The closer the wedding came, the more Arthur pulled away from his friends. He became emotionless, performing every task with a detached air. Merlin didn't know what to do. Maybe find this secret love? Keep his tongue and watch his friend die inside? Some unknown third option?

Ten days before the wedding, Merlin made up his mind to the Druid encampment and try pleading for Arthur’s mysterious love.

***

"Arthur can not break his promise, young Emrys. But you can help your friend."

Merlin cocked his head. "How?"

"Take your place by his side."

"I have been by Arthur's side since I met him! That’s why I’m here, begging you not to trap him in a loveless marriage!"

The woman in front of him smiled. "That’s not something you have to worry about, young Emrys."

"Why?"

"Because fate has chosen you, young Emrys."

***

Sometimes, Merlin just wanted to punch fate in the nose. Merlin spent the ride back trying to think of a way to break it to Arthur that _he_ was the one the Druids were going to tie Arthur to in marriage. 

And surprising, it wasn't the having-to-marry-a-male part, but the Arthur-I-have-magic part that Merlin was dreading. He couldn't stand to see hate in Arthur's eyes.

He knew he need to tell Arthur now, and not in the middle of _their_ wedding. 

"Arthur, I need to tell you something and you are not going to be happy."

"What did you do _now_?"

"I-saw-the-Druids!" Merlin let the words rush out of him. 

" _Merlin_ \--"

"I know who they want you to marry." Merlin grimaced. 

"It's that bad?"

"It's...um...me?"

" _You_." Arthur deadpanned. 

"Look, okay, this is the worst time to tell you. And I _should_ have before, but--" Merlin lifted his left head and pooled his magic in his palm, forming a blue ball of light.

"Merlin," Arthur breathed out his name, before pulling Merlin in for a kiss and backing Merlin up against the wall. "I thought I was never going to get to have you."

"Arthur...you...oh!" Merlin understood Gwen's words now. Merlin felt something warm and hot wrap around him. "Really, Arthur, can't wait for the wedding?"

–------------------------------

34.

It was hot and sunny, and Merlin smelled like sunscreen when he protested.

"We've gone on that one already," he whined. "Arthur, we've been on all of them. My head hurts and I'm going to vomit next time you make me go on a roller coaster."

"Girl," Arthur scoffed. 

"Am not!"

"Are too. You probably get migraines, and whine over your makeup when I'm not around."

"Oy! You're going the way of No-illicit-activities-on-the-Ferris-Wheel."

Arthur crooked an eyebrow. "Am I now?"

"I was planning to desecrate one of those little swingy carts, but no more now," Merlin said, and folded his arms to complete the picture.

"Well," Arthur reconsidered. "Maybe you're not a complete girl."

"Oh I'm not, am I?"

"Maybe. Perhaps."

"Not a girl when I'm fucking you, am I?" Merlin asked.

"Merlin!" Arthur scolded.

"What?"

"There are children!"

"Should have thought about that before you insulted my masculinity," Merlin sighed. "Too late for that, though..."

"Too late my ass," Arthur growled. "Come on, we're going to the Ferris wheel."

\----

The Ferris wheel was enormous. From where they stood at the bottom, it looked hundreds of feet high and shockingly rickety. But Arthur was finding it hard to get concerned, as Merlin was leaned close behind him in line. His chest was flat to Arthur's chest, and he murmured into Arthur's ear.

“How long does it take, you think? How many times can we go round? Imagine if we got stuck, up at the top. We could see everyone, the whole park, and I could suck you down up there. We'd have to be careful. I bet they'd love a show-” he said, and gestured to a handful of girls giggling and crowded together.

“They'd love to catch us at it,” Merlin continued, and Arthur had to lean back just a bit.

“Merlin,” he warned, but didn't know quite what to say after.

“Hm?” Merlin said.

“Stop it.”

Merlin huffed, but kept quiet until they were ten feet up. Then he squawked. Because Arthur had jumped him.

Arthur was all over him, straddling his hips and kissing the life out of him. Strong hands buried themselves into impossible black hair, changing the mess from 'just woke up this way' to 'recently fucked.' Merlin hoped he would be. Dear god, he hoped he would be, but-

“Condoms?” He asked.

“Why on earth would I bring condoms to a theme park?” Arthur asked.

“To have sex with!”

“No, you're the deviant here. Not me,” Arthur said.

“Arthur,” Merlin whined. Arthur leaned in, mouthed at his earlobe.

“So fussy,” he said. He rubbed against Merlin, leaned against the rail so their car tipped and swung in the air.

“Hands?” Merlin asked.

“You'd damn well better, the way you kept going on in line. I'd fuck you sideways if I could.”

Merlin grinned. “When we get back.”

“When you don't taste like SPF 30,” Arthur said.

Merlin kissed him, his lips the only part of his body- almost- that didn't taste of sunscreen and sweat. Arthur slid back onto the bench and spared a thought for their surroundings. They were at the top of the wheel, far up in the air, and though the scenery was surely fantastic...

Merlin was tugging his shorts open, which was of much more importance.

Arthur followed suit, and got close enough to start jerking Merlin off. Their gentle descent became a countdown, and as Merlin stroked Arthur's cock, the sensation was coupled with tense, hot anxiety. Could the other cars see them? Was there time? Could anyone hear Merlin? Because the sounds he was making...

Merlin was breathing in short gasps, and though he wasn't actually using his voice- and Arthur missed that, because Merlin's voice as he masturbated was a glorious, gravely thing- it was unmistakeable what they were doing.

That pressure of “what if” rolled up with the fierce pleasure of Merlin's hand, fast and tight, to bring him off too soon. Arthur had to close his eyes against the sun, as his head hit the back wall and he covered Merlin's hand in come.

He needed a minute to recover, but Merlin was thrusting into his palm, so Arthur began a half-hearted up-and-down. But... 

They were ten feet from the ground, and Merlin was red-faced, and Arthur realized just in time to do his zip.

“I'll make it up to you?”

“Damn right you will.”

–----------------------------------

35.

“Oh, bollocks,” Will groaned in dismay. He dragged his hands over his face, streaking it with mud. “This is it, isn’t it? I’ve finally lost it.” 

“If you have,” Merlin said weakly from where he sat beside him, “then so have I.”

Still, Will’s words brought him a sense of relief, because that meant he probably wasn’t imagining the group of what looked like medieval Knights fighting off some zombies. Probably. 

But he had taken a hard hit to the head when one of their rescuers had shoved him out of the way of the oncoming horde, and was starting to feel it in the way the world was tilting. He dropped his hands- his magic didn’t seem to be needed, anyway- and shoved them down into the cool mud, trying to steady himself. 

“Fat lot of good that is. I knew you were nutters from the moment we met.” 

“I saved your life when we first met!”

“Exactly my point. What sane person sticks their neck out for a stranger during a shite apocalypse like this?”

A shadow loomed over them, interrupting their conversation. 

“Well,” said the man the shadow belonged to, “we just did, so I think a thank you might be in order.”

Merlin blinked up at him, gaping openly. He’s like an angel, he thought, awe-struck. Or like a mythological god come to life. 

The man stood in front of the sun like he was born of it, the light illuminating the golden hair plastered to his head with sweat like a makeshift halo, glinting off his heaving armor- clad chest and the sword he held at his side. Even his face looked regal, strong jaw and cheekbones and nose and all, as well as his intense blue eyes- which were giving Merlin an unimpressed look. 

“Something you wanted to say?” he asked, one eyebrow raised. 

“My knight in shining armor,” Merlin said dreamily, then fell unconscious face-first into the mud.

***

He woke in a hospital-like room to the same face he’d passed out to, because wasn’t that just his luck?

“The damsel in distress awakens,” the man said, grinning widely to reveal a set of slightly crooked teeth that secretly made Merlin feel better, because it meant the man wasn’t perfect as he’d previously thought. 

“What are you doing here?” Merlin grumbled, his face heating in embarrassment. “And where is here, anyway?” 

“The outskirts of Camelot. Coincidentally, I’m Arthur Pendragon, second in command, and personally oversee any potential new residents before they’re allowed in. So if you could please strip, that would be great.” 

At Merlin’s look, Arthur shrugged. 

“Standard cycle of procedure. We check everyone for bite wounds before letting them in the walls. I’m sure you know why.” 

Merlin couldn’t argue with that. He shucked off his clothes, intent on being nonchalant about it. 

Or that had been the plan, anyway. It fell apart when Arthur reached out to move him around, using light, lingering touches that left Merlin half hard and made him question their necessity.

He kept his suspicions to himself until Arthur asked him to spread his legs so he could check Merlin’s bum. 

“You know what? Suck my dick,” Merlin fumed, sure he was being made fun of. 

But before he could move, Arthur sank to his knees in front of Merlin and said, “Okay.”

“I- wait, fuck, are you serious?” Merlin stared down at Arthur, at how close his face was to Merlin’s erection. 

“I was going to suggest something more, but we should wait until you’ve fully recovered from that head wound.” 

“Bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”

“You haven’t said no yet,” Arthur said with a smirk. 

And then he took Merlin in his mouth. 

“Shit,” Merlin breathed, transfixed by the sight of Arthur’s eyelids fluttering as he held Merlin’s eyes, his lips stretched around Merlin’s cock, tongue flattened against the length of it. 

He couldn’t look away when Arthur started to move, taking Merlin deeper down his throat with wet, obscene sounds, with harsh, panting breaths that filled Merlin’s ears.

He ran his hands through Arthur’s hair, grabbed hold when Arthur pulled off completely and tongued Merlin’s slit in a way that made his thighs quiver, was still holding on as he came with a cry, Arthur swallowing down his come down like he was fucking made for it. 

“By the way,” Arthur said calmly as he wiped his mouth, like he hadn’t just given a blowjob. “You don’t have magic, do you?”

“…No?” Merlin lied. 

“Oh, that’s good. I’d hate to have to kill you after all this. So, would you like to stay at Camelot?”

–-----------------------------------

36.

 **Note** Inspired by a [small detail](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Elyan_the_White) in the Arthurian literary cycle

Elyan was going through the shed behind the forge when he found the ring, nestled in a trunk of his mother's dresses. Tom probably couldn't bear to throw it out. The ring slipped easily onto his smallest finger.

"Gwen," he called. "Come see this."

Their mother had died giving birth to Gwen; Elyan had only the faintest memory of her. The ring was gold with a red gem that glimmered in the light from the doorway. Gwen might insist on selling it, but he thought it would look well on her.

Instead of Gwen, Prince Arthur stooped under the low lintel.

"I came by to see how you're getting on." He looked awkward in the small space, but Elyan was surprised and pleased that he would pay them a visit.

"A lot of junk, as you can see."

Arthur peered at the dresses. "Oh, are you going to try them on?"

Elyan raised an eyebrow. The man had a strange sense of humour. "I don't think they'd suit me, sire."

"They're a bit old-fashioned," Arthur fingered a surprisingly well-preserved dress, then looked him up and down. Elyan shifted uncomfortably. "But this would look beautiful on you."

"Uh," Elyan said. Before he could formulate a response, Arthur was moving closer. Elyan thought he was going to whisper -- something about Gwen? Was that why he was here? -- but then Arthur kissed his lips.

Elyan jerked away. "What the hell?"

"I'm sorry." Arthur looked abashed.

"I barely know you!" Elyan sputtered. He couldn't believe the gall of him. And after the way he acted toward his sister!

"You've known me almost as long as my father and Morgana, Guinevere."

What. It took Elyan several moments to disentangle his words. Arthur had called him _Guinevere_? Elyan looked down at himself, but he looked the same as always. Except--

Except for the ring twinkling up at him.

"I'm not feeling myself," Elyan said slowly. "You should go."

Arthur was concerned but obeyed, promising to send Gaius. As soon as he left, Elyan pulled the ring off, shuddering. He was _never_ putting that thing on again.

* * *

Elyan tried to destroy the ring in vain. He was afraid to tell anyone of it, afraid of it falling into the wrong hands. He didn't use it again until Morgana invaded Camelot the second time.

Everything was chaos, fire and ruin. Elyan woke on the cold stone of the hall and snuck back to his chamber where he pocketed the ring. In the woods, he slipped it on as he turned back to give Arthur and Merlin a chance.

"Agravaine," he whispered. When the oncoming swordsman stumbled, confused, he yelled, "They went that way!" and allowed himself to be carried with the tide of running men.

He spotted Agravaine on horseback and ducked into the trees, circling back to Camelot.

As a castle servant, he watched Morgana make Gwaine fight for a crust of bread. As a mercenary, he freed Gaius and Gwaine from the dungeons and listened to Morgana rage.

"Bring me back their heads," Morgana commanded Helios. She sent Agravaine to search for Arthur. That was the chance he needed.

Knowing Morgana's deepest fear, he became "Emrys." Only for a moment, an old, bent man in the crowd, just enough to unnerve her.

Then he became Helios, returning empty-handed, and let Morgana scream herself hoarse, then cry and cling to him with exhaustion and fear. Elyan pitied her, but it was the only way.

Except that she opened her eyes the moment he pulled the knife, grasped his hand with unexpected strength, sending a shockwave of pain through him. The ring seemed to pulse with heat on his finger.

"Almost had me that time," Morgana smirked. She arched and rubbed against him, waking all of his nerves. The knife fell clattering to the floor as Morgana bit his neck.

Elyan closed his eyes. This wasn't going how he had intended at all, but now Morgana's magic was unlacing his breeches and he _couldn't think_. She squeezed his balls until he groaned helplessly.

The throne was cold and hard against his skin as Morgana rubbed his face into her, as she mounted and used him, fucking herself on his cock. He spent himself -- as the real Helios entered the room.

"Oh," Morgana taunted, clenching with him still inside her. "You have some explaining to do."

Her hand sought his and she clawed the ring from his finger.

–-----------------------------------

37.

Merlin has only been in Camelot for a few minutes when he is unceremoniously run over by a man on a bike. When Merlin sits up and wipes the mud from his face, he can see that it is a devastatingly hot man on a bike.

“You might want to watch where you’re going,” Hot man says. “You almost bent my wheel rim.”

Then he bikes away.

*

Uncle Gaius calls for him to come in when Merlin knocks, as he is installed in a ratty arm chair, a cast covering is left leg from toes to knee. He frowns at Merlin’s disheveled appearance. “What happened?”

“I was almost killed by a devastatingly hot prat.”

Gaius nods. “Arthur,” he says. He looks at Merlin seriously. “You need to stay away from him.”

*

Merlin goes to pick up breakfast for Gaius from the shop on the corner, which seems to function as a bakery/café during the day and a pub at night. It isn’t until after the cashier takes his order and starts packing his food to go that Merlin feels someone’s eyes on him.

It’s hot and prattish Arthur, sitting at a booth.

“You’ve got a bruise on your head,” he explains when Merlin meets his gaze.

Merlin grabs his bag. “You would know, you caused it, remember?” he sneers, leaving quickly so that he doesn’t have to acknowledge how lame that comeback was.

*

The problem is Arthur doesn’t remember.

“Traumatic head injury damaged the receptors that store short term memory and turn it into long time memory. Once he goes into a REM cycle, the previous day’s data is lost. Arthur has been living the day of his accident over and over again for the last 3 years,” Gaius explains. “Merlin, you’re here to help me until I can walk again, leave the man alone.”

Merlin, for some reason, cannot.

*

Arthur, pre-accident, was a man of schedules, and he follows the same pattern every day. It only takes two days for Merlin to learn it, and he’s already bored.

The villagers don’t seem to mind, if anything they glare anytime Merlin does anything to disrupt Arthur’s schedule. Gaius explained that Uther Pendragon basically owned the town, but Merlin thinks the villagers care less about money, and more about Arthur himself.

*

Truthfully, Merlin does not need to disrupt anything to get Arthur’s attention. He’s always looking, always commenting.

“Nice ears, did you fly here with them?” he’ll ask, smirking while sipping his tea.

“Are you quite sure you can carry those bags with those arms?” he asks, propped against a wall outside the grocery shop.

Merlin finally snaps one day and asks if Arthur has a better solution. It turns out he does, and Merlin and his bags get a bike ride to Gauis’ house. Merlin takes his bags and turns to thank him, and is met with soft lips on his and a warm and calloused hand cupping his neck. Arthur smirks and rides away before Merlin can respond.

It would have been the perfect move. Stake your interest early, and let it develop from there. The problem is Arthur doesn’t remember making his claim the next day, but Merlin does.

Merlin is screwed.

*

“Holy fuck,” Merlin says, and presses his head harder into the wall of the bathroom stall. Arthur is between his legs, leaving hot and biting kisses up Merlin’s thigh.

“I’ve been looking at you all day, needed you now,” Arthur says, and suddenly Merlin is engulfed in the sweet wet heat of his mouth.

Merlin has learned how to play each day to get a desired outcome. Mouth off at Arthur at breakfast, snog in the park by nightfall. Grocery days lead to the same sweet kisses as the first. Then there are these days, which Merlin lurks in the periphery all day, then shows up for drinks at the pub at night.

Arthur always makes sure that Merlin comes first before he lets Merlin get him off. He always hints that he’s open to some biting, some marking. He even offers one night, when they are both wound up and crazy with lust, to bottom. Merlin says no.

He wants to say yes, to mark Arthur in some way tangible, the way Arthur has forever laid his mark on Merlin; on his heart.

So Merlin waits, and hopes.

Still, better to spend the rest of his days on repeat with Arthur, than another day without.

–---------------------------------

38.

Merlin picked up his cycle outside of Waterloo station and carried it inside. A London courier, he nonetheless couldn’t afford to live in the capitol, so he commuted in. It was a little far out, but cheap. 

He side-eyed the suits waiting for the train, and saw the blond, _sexy_ in that way that only City blokes were, again. Merlin caught his eye and felt the blush rise to his cheeks. 

*** 

Biking bloke was back. Arthur caught him staring again, which was frankly fine with Arthur because the man was endearingly cute with the most ridiculous ears. When the cycler blushed, Arthur felt sure he was in there. He decided then to board the train to Hampton Court; he knew that was the bloke’s train because he’d watched him take it at least thrice last month. Arthur could change later, at Surbiton and get the proper train to get home. 

He jostled his way into the train car after the cycler, and managed to stand next to him. It took several stops to catch his eye. “I’m Arthur,” he said by way of introduction. 

The man looked a bit startled, and didn’t answer at first. “Ah. Er, Merlin,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Why?”

“Ah, well. General purposes?”

Arthur grinned. “I’ve seen you in the station.”

“Likewise.”

Surbiton was coming up. “Any chance of your number? I’d like to meet for a drink sometime, if you’d like.”

An even more surprised and beet-red Merlin gave Arthur his mobile number.

*** 

When Friday rolled around, Arthur got to the point.

Arthur: So, Merlin. Would you like to get a drink with me tonight?

Merlin: Arthur?

Arthur: Are you in the habit of being asked out via random number SMS?

Merlin: Prat.

Arthur: Is that a no, then?

Merlin: Yes. 

Merlin: I mean, no.

Merlin: I mean, yes, I’ll meet you for a drink, so long as you don’t have a trophy wife stashed away at your mansion in Esher.

Arthur: ☺ I live in Weybridge.

Merlin: Of course you do. With your trophy wife, your aristocratic title, and your 7-bedroom mansion.

Arthur: 6. And no wife. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m gay.

Merlin: SIX bedrooms, Lord Pendragon?

Arthur: That’s my father, and I’d rather not think about him while I’m thinking about having your cock up my arse in every bedroom of my admittedly enormous house. 

Arthur: Want to come round? I have a wine cellar. And a bike rack.

Merlin: You’re kidding, right?

Arthur: Not at all. Meet me for the 5:40 train and I’ll show you.

**** 

 

They met at the train and Arthur once again jostled his way into the car with Merlin. 

They didn’t talk much (people don’t) but when they emerged at Weybridge station, Arthur led the way to a Range Rover. Merlin put his cycle in the back. 

They showered (separately), Merlin got a tour of the (ridiculously large) surprisingly traditional home Arthur had inherited from his Grandfather (and clearly spent a pile doing renos in). There was a bloody _indoor pool_ , for fuck’s sake.

After a really nice dinner, they cuddled on the couch watching AI until Arthur stood. Wordlessly, he led Merlin into the master suite – the one thing Merlin hadn’t seen on the tour.

“We don’t really have to,” Arthur began. 

Merlin put a finger to Arthur’s mouth, shushing him. “But I think we do,” he said, and kissed him. 

Arthur moaned into the kiss, sliding a hand down to Merlin’s waist and pulling him toward the bed. Arthur’s knees hit the side and he collapsed into the mattress. Merlin pulled off his shirt and settled on Arthur’s chest, pressing him down with his hips.

In moments they were both naked, and Merlin was hard, weepingly hard. Arthur had a leg up over Merlin’s shoulder, and his hole was open to Merlin’s fingers, long and gentle, relentless, pushing against Arthur’s prostate and causing his cock to jump against his stomach.

“Inside me, please,” Arthur begged in that posh Oxbridge voice of his. Merlin took his mouth, sliding his tongue in to claim while his dick claimed Arthur’s arse.

He pounded into Arthur, heat surrounding his cock, one hand on Arthur’s neck and another on his dick, coaxing his orgasm from him. Merlin hit Arthur’s prostate with his cock, and it was enough – Arthur’s release pulsed over Merlin’s hand, and a groaning wail was wrenched from Arthur’s throat as Merlin came deep in his arse. 

“Fuck,” Merlin said. “Next time I want to ride you on the desk in your library.”

***

It was awfully good that Arthur’s staff had been given the weekend off.

–------------------------------

39.

After four years of video blogging, Merlin Emrys, a.k.a. MagicalMerlin, is considered to be a fairly popular YouTuber by most standards. He believes that the key to his success lies not in his British accent or his unusually high cheekbones, but in his process of video creation, which occurs in five basic steps. These steps are as follows:

***

1\. Inspiration

Scrolling through his tumblr tag turns out to be a bad idea.

He already knows that fans think he and his roommate are a couple. Ever since he and Arthur met at Vidcon last year and started splitting rent, fans have been convinced that Merlin and Arthur Penn (a.k.a. kingarthurofawesome) are in some kind of secret relationship. On tumblr, it isn’t even speculation—it’s considered fact.

Currently, one of the trending posts in his fanbase is a gifset from one of his latest videos with Arthur. Apparently, when Arthur left the room to grab something from the kitchen, Merlin had turned to stare at his arse.

Fuck.

Merlin didn’t notice it when he edited the video a couple days ago, but it’s painfully apparent when looped in .gif format all over the internet. Someone even made a post to set the image side-by-side with the other “Merthur” gifs from earlier this year: the one where Arthur spoon-feeds him Nutella, the one where Arthur draws a cock on his face in Sharpie, the one where Arthur tickles him until he falls off the couch….

Merlin closes tumblr and leans back, running his hands through his hair.

…Is he really that obvious?

***

2\. Scripting

In the end, he decides to make another Dare or Dare video. Those are always popular. 

He’s scrolling through the comments on the previous video to find a few good fan-submitted challenges when Arthur comes up behind him, peering over his shoulder.

“Another dare one?”

“Mm-hm.”

Arthur takes a couple moments to read, and Merlin stays absolutely still. He’s hyperaware of Arthur’s breath on his ear and the warm hand on his shoulder.

Then Arthur gestures forward , pointing at one of the comments on the screen. “I’d like to watch you try that one. Looks fun. Not fun for you, though.” He straightens and walks to the kitchen.

 _I dare you to stuff 10 ice cubes down Y-fronts for 1 minute, wearing nothing but the Y-fronts,_ Merlin reads.

He stares, feeling his heart beat faster and his face heat up. 

Arthur’s suggestion does _not_ get added to the list. 

***  
3\. Filming

“Come on, let me choose one. It’s not fair if you get to pick them all,” says Arthur, reaching over Merlin on the bed to commandeer the MacBook. He looks for a while before grinning straight at the camera. “Here’s a good one, Merlin. TheMerlinFangirl6 from San Francisco says, ‘I dare you to kiss each other, el-oh-el, ex-dee.’”

There’s a pause.

“What?” Merlin asks hazily.

“They dared us to kiss.”

“No, I mean—”

But Merlin isn’t prepared for Arthur to get that close. He’s not prepared for Arthur’s eyes, or Arthur’s breath on his face, or Arthur’s _lips_ ….

His lips are soft. Merlin expects Arthur to pull away after that, but he doesn’t. Instead, his lips _move_ , parting slightly to let his tongue roam into Merlin’s mouth. There’s a blinking red light trying to tell them that the camera is still recording, but Merlin can’t bring himself to care. He’s kissing _back_ , goddammit, and his hand is sliding underneath Arthur’s shirt, and Arthur’s hands are clutching at Merlin’s hair and grabbing Merlin’s thigh and _fuck_ , he’s been craving this since day one. 

“Didn’t expect the dare to work,” Arthur says breathlessly against Merlin’s ear. Then the hand on his thigh moves higher to palm his cock through his trousers.

“ _Shit,_ pants Merlin. His fingers scrape across Arthur’s shoulders as they kiss and kiss and kiss until they’re both hard and gasping.

Arthur’s hand finds the zip on Merlin’s jeans. “Can I—”

“Yeah, yes, _God_ yes—”

And then Arthur’s mouth is on his cock, and Merlin can’t speak another word.

***

4\. Editing

“What are you doing?”

“Cutting the footage from yesterday.”

“Keep it.”

Merlin gives him a look.

“Not all of it, obviously. Just the snogging.”

“Well…” he begins, but then he think, why not?

Why not give them what they want?

***

5\. Posting

“I tried to make you all another truth or dare video,” Merlin’s voice says through computer speakers all over the world, “but… well, you’ll see what happened.”

Needless to say, the internet goes wild.

–-------------------------------  
40.

Gwaine proffered the phone.

“Hello?” Merlin said, kicking Gwaine when he restarted the Wii.

“ _How’re you, Merlin_?” Morgana sounded raw.

“Since your brother broke my heart?” He snapped, Gwaine dying in-game as he tuned-in.

“Sorry, Morgs. I’m okay. You?”

_“Uther died today.”_

Merlin’s stomach dropped, heart aching for Morgana.

“I’m so sorry.” 

“How’s Arthur?” It just slipped out.

 _“He’s…so calm - He’s gonna break. I’ve no right to ask_ -”

“When and where?” Merlin grabbed paper and pen, scribbling the details.

“You okay?” Merlin asked.

 _“Gwen’s_ -” Muffled voices interrupted. _“Sorry, I’ve gotta go.”_

Merlin was left with a dial tone.

\---  
Morgana looked pale, but composed. 

Arthur…

Arthur looked _broken_ ; shoulders that Merlin thought could hold the world were bowed, his face gaunt.

The whole service Merlin stared at Arthur who stared straight ahead, unmoving and silent.

Morgana led the procession from the church, her grateful smile to Merlin loosening the knot in his stomach

Arthur stared blankly ahead.

\---  
At the wake, Merlin avoided almost everyone, not wanting to make small talk with people who considered him  
‘ _that boy who led Arthur astray’_. 

“You came,” Morgana’s eyes were red-rimmed, but she stood tall. 

“Can’t imagine it’ll help.” 

“He knows you’re here.”

“Huh?” Arthur hadn’t glanced his way once.

“Since the church, he’s…different.”

Behind Merlin floorboards squeaked.

“Merlin.” Arthur looked destroyed.

Dazedly, Merlin strode to Arthur, resting their heads together.

“You’re here.” Arthur’s presence washed over Merlin, missed and so dear. 

“Get me out of here.”

“Ar-”

 _“Please.”_  
\---  
Merlin shucked his jacket as he closed his front door

“Why’d you come?” Arthur’s tone was vulnerable in a way Merlin’d never known.

“For you.”

“But why?” Arthur pleaded. “After everything, why-”

“I love you,” Merlin stated baldly and Arthur crumpled onto Merlin’s bed, strings cut.

“But…you left.”

Merlin winced, stomach in knots.

“This can wai-”

“It can’t make my week worse, Merlin.”

“It wasn’t a lack of love,” Merlin stated, “it was the lying…secrecy…Uther.”

“I took you for granted.” Arthur whispered.

“I felt like a manservant not a lover.”  
Arthur’s head snapped up, distraught. 

“I never meant-” Arthur implored.

“And we did what we always did instead of talking; fought, fucked, carried on and I couldn’t take that cycle again, but I’d give anything to fix it.”

“Fix?” Hope dripped from Arthur’s tone.

Merlin stood on legs weak with fear, unprepared for Arthur to snatch him forward, resting his head on Merlin’s stomach, Merlin curling protectively over his shoulders, feeling the tremble of exhaustion and grief.

“Please…” Arthur’s intent was clear, desperate hands pulling the shirt from Merlin’s trousers, skittering over Merlin’s skin, stroking over ribs more prominent than months before, self-loathing twisting Arthur’s gut. 

“We shouldn’t,” Merlin gasped, arching into Arthur’s touch, refuting his assertion. “You’re grieving - confused.”

Arthur scowled.

“Wanted you back since you left.”

Arthur dragged him onto the bed, cradling Merlin’s skull, urging him to look up.

“I love you.” 

Their bodies pressed along every inch, Merlin straddling Arthur’s hips, taking him in a possessive kiss, Arthur rolling them, their legs tangling in the sheets.

“So long since you touched me,” Arthur whimpered, sitting up, ripping his tie and shirt off before working on Merlin’s, Merlin drunk on the sensation of Arthur’s weight on him again, the rasp of his chest hair against sensitive nipples.

“Off,” Arthur growled, tugging at Merlin’s belt, as Merlin teased Arthur’s cock through his trousers, mouth watering with desire to swallow Arthur down.

Clothes gone, they came together as though never apart, easy as breathing. It was so familiar, yet so new, both changed by grief and broken hearts, movements lacking finesse as their thrusts became frenzied, cocks slipping and sliding against each other, pleasure overwhelming.

Arthur’s moans were so sweet, sinking into that hollow pit behind Merlin’s ribs that had gnawed at him since he’d walked away, and Merlin rewarded him with deep kisses, tongue laden with words he couldn’t say, brushing them into Arthur’s mouth.

“Fuck me,” Arthur whined as he chased climax.

The thought of prepping Arthur open with teasing licks and sucking kisses to his hole had Merlin crying out as he spilt between them, Arthur grunting as he followed after.

They curled around each other, catching their breath and trading gentle kisses.

“I told him,” Arthur whispered, “I was gonna win you back. Beg on my knees.” 

“Maybe that’s what did him in.” Arthur huffed a mirthless laugh. “He said he’d _allow_ me to be gay over his dead bod-”

Arthur’s voice cracked, sobs escaping.

As Merlin wrapped himself around his lover, the tears flowed.

–---------------------------

41.

Arthur throws his head back and moans, shuddering and thrashing even, as his orgasm hits him and makes him light-headed. He doesn't care that he's too loud, doesn't care that, perhaps, the neighbours are trying to sleep or have a big day tomorrow. He only needs to prolong his pleasure, with movement and sound, to vocalize it, to show Lance exactly how much he loves him, how endless is the pleasure the latter gives him. Lancelot continues thrusting in him, his hips snap and snap and snap; Arthur can feel the cock inside him throbbing and then he feels it, feels how it gets even harder and then Lance's thrusts become quick and shallow, jabs even, if Arthur needs be picky about his vocabulary, and his quiet moans mean the world to Arthur. They are one now, in sex, in this, in whatever it is that their life will become soon enough. They belong together.

Lance gradually slows down, and then (ever so graceful, the bastard) flops onto Arthur. The moment he realizes he's atop of him he tries to shift but Arthur wraps his hands around Lancelot's waist and keeps him in place. Lance emits a low sound to show he's understood, and moves until both of them feel comfortable. Outside, the night is bright and the wind hums with the distant sounds of a busy street. The gaining moon peeks through the open window. Arthur can see its shape cast on the curtain and its light dissipating in the room. Lancelot, Arthur notices, has turned his head from it; even in happy moments like this, even during sex it probably takes its toll on his mind. Arthur finds himself holding his lover tighter again, and inhales the scent of sweat and sex, mixed with the freshness settling after summer storms, coming from outside.

"Lance..." he whispers, and immediately feels Lancelot's whole body stiffen.

"Arthur… please."

His voice is breathy and weary and Arthur nods in agreement. He needs to talk about it, and he knows Lancelot is aware of this because of-fucking-course Arthur Pendragon must have a plan about everything that happens in life, his boyfriend being bitten by a werewolf included. Arthur had been surprised to find out that the worse part is seeing Lance suffer in silence, and not being able to help at all. They can't go to a doctor, and they probably look suspicious already, taking all the possible books on werewolves from the library, and purchasing a great deal more online. The person - Arthur has to force himself to think of that one as a person - who bit Lance is still out there and until the moon is full they are going to be in the dark about practically all of the details.

They had tried to stay away from each other, Lance especially had tried to stay away from Arthur for fear of hurting him one way or another, but Arthur had made it impossible. Lancelot the Werewolf was as every bit as passionate and gentle a lover as Lancelot the Human. They have to use condoms again, truth, and it is a bit inconvenient to re-stack on those, but it is for the best. They laugh at the image of tiny sperm with tiny werewolf fangs and claws and hellbent on impregnating Arthur through his butt or however it worked in real life.

Lancelot slides behind Arthur and spoons him with a possessiveness that is very new for him. Arthur does not mind. Moon cycles he can adjust to, and he looks forward to a time when he will be able to tease Lance about his time of the month.


	7. Group C (no warnings)

42.

"Well Mr. Emrys, I have to say, your service record is exemplary. Henceforth, I'm assigning you one of our more, shall we say, spirited cases."

"I'm sure I'm up for the challenge sir."

***

Nothing could have prepared him for the challenge that is Arthur.

"I've just been promoted," says Arthur smugly, swirling a wisp of cirrostratus around in his palm. "I used to be a human."

"That's nice," says Merlin, twitching slightly as some of the clouds slip through his fingers and streak away across the sky.

Arthur clearly picks up on his disapproval and rolls his eyes. "So, what are you and why exactly do I need you?"

"I'm a cloud herder," says Merlin proudly. "I keep you and the other shepherds in line."

Arthur narrows his eyes. "I don't need a minder _Mer_ lin."

The remaining clouds in his palm tremble and blacken, tiny beads of rain forming on their undersides.

"Of course you don't."

***

"Gwen! Hey Gwen! Gwen look over here! Why isn't she looking at me Merlin?"

"Arthur please, you're really not supposed to make it rain when the sun is out. Especially not during Leon's heat wave."

"GWEN!"

Merlin sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose before chasing after his wayward charge.

***

"We've a nice easy assignment today: create some low-lying stratus over the Midlands and bring in some altostratus around midday."

"That sounds boring. Why don't I make a giant monster instead?"

"Because you can't just make up formations on a whim! This pattern has been on the calendar for weeks. Now come on, show me how you thin them out."

Arthur whines and flops on his back, picking apart the clouds petulantly. He's almost cute: in a pain in the arse sort of way.

***

August in Scotland is much like February in Southern England.

"That bits mine."

"Just because it's called 'Arthur's Seat' doesn't mean it's yours."

Arthur responds by sticking his tongue out at him and arranging his flock around the mountain, letting the sun through to its peak but blocking it from the rest of the city. Reporters dub it as the strangest weather phenomenon Edinburgh has ever seen.

***

Morgana is the East Wind. That's not a poetic description of her personality; she's literally the East Wind. She comes with autumn and drives Arthur up the metaphorical wall by blowing his herd all over creation. 

"No one likes you," Arthur says churlishly. "Literally. No one has ever said, 'hmmm, I do hope we'll have some wind today'. You're the worst bit of weather."

Morgana responds by blowing his clouds out over Swansea. Arthur puffs up his remaining flock into a castle complete with ramparts and catapults.

"Arthur, you should really go after your flock," Merlin tries weakly. He looks at the full scale battle going on in front of him and departs to track down Arthur's wayward stratoculumus.

***

Winter comes and with it word that Morgana has decided to vacation in Canada. Merlin is pleased that they might finally have time for some proper training but less so with the sulk Arthur now wears on an almost permanent basis.

"Who am I supposed to play with now?" Arthur pokes at an altocumulus desolately.

Merlin spends the rest of his day persuading Mithian to give them a rainbow. He gets two weeks' worth of desk duty for his infraction, but it's worth it to see the smile on Arthur's face.

***

The first day Merlin's allowed back in the field, Arthur greets him with a hug and a perfectly formed nimbostratus.

"I've been practicing," he says, still holding Merlin close.

"I can see that! Soon enough you won't need me at all." His smile is forced but there's truth behind his words.

Apparently Arthur doesn't agree. His clouds turn dark and swell menacingly. Merlin takes a deep breath and braces against the inevitable freezing rain storm that's about to pour down.

"I'll always need you Merlin," Arthur says sincerely.

"Ok." It comes out a bit like a wobbly question but Merlin doesn't know what else say.

Arthur looks at him appraisingly and apparently finds the answer he's looking for.

"I've been practicing something else too."

"Oh?"

Arthur takes a deep breath and guides his flock to encircle them. The last slip of cumulonimbus closes around them and then Arthur's lips are crushing his, wet and hot and full of want. Merlin gives way easily and soon they're a mess of hands and tongues and clouds.

"I didn't know, ah, clouds could be, mmmmm, used like this."

"Shut up Merlin."

–-----------------------------------

43.

There was a smash of glass - probably something expensive - and a high-pitched shriek.

“Arthur Pendragon, you are the worst boyfriend ever!” His girlfriend Vivian screamed.

That sounded about right. All of Arthur’s relationships ended with blood, tears, and property damage. 

Merlin walked out into the kitchen and prepared himself some tea. He dodged more flying glassware as he walked back to his room. 

“That was my grandfather’s antique vase!”

Definitely expensive, Merlin thought.

“I asked for two carat diamonds, Arthur! And you give me this _cheap_ one carat necklace? What am I trailer trash?” Vivian screamed as Merlin shut his door.

Who could have foreseen the ill-advised relationship with the obvious gold digger ending like this. Merlin pointed at himself. Merlin and everyone else had warned Arthur about Vivian, but he had refused to listen. 

Merlin sat down on his bed and enjoyed his cup of tea. About five minutes after the shrieking stopped and Merlin heard the door slam, Arthur was at his door.

Merlin shook his head and looked at his watch. “This is a record, even for you, Arthur. Five minutes and you’re already at my door.”

Arthur didn’t say anything as he closed the door behind him and sauntered over to Merlin.

Merlin got up on his knees and waved his hands in front of him. “No more, Arthur. My bed is now an Arthur free zone.”

Arthur just grinned and gave Merlin a sexy grin, which would normally have Merlin’s pants off quicker than you could say “rebound” but not any longer. 

“I mean it, Arthur. I’m not going to be your bed warmer in between relationships.” Even Merlin could hear the lack of conviction in his voice.

Arthur got up on the bed and knee-walked toward Merlin. He grabbed Merlin’s hips and pressed him their groins together. 

Merlin’s eyes fluttered as he felt Arthur’s erection against him.

This had been going on for a long time. The first time it happened was two weeks after Gwen had ended things with Arthur. Arthur was devastated and Merlin had just been trying to offer some comfort. Somehow that comfort included his hand stuffed down Arthur’s crotch and eventual mutual handjobs.

After things with Mithian ended, it took one week before Arthur and Merlin were giving each other blowjobs. Then after the particularly destructive ending with Sophia, it took only one day before Arthur was riding Merlin and giving him the best orgasm of his life.

It seemed the shorter his relationship, the shorter Arthur’s mourning period.

Arthur started to nibble on Merlin’s neck and Merlin almost gave in. He exposed his neck further and put his arms around Arthur’s waist. But when Arthur reached for the hem of Merlin’s shirt, he pulled back. “No.” He hit Arthur square in the chest with the palms of his hands. “I mean it.”

Arthur finally turned serious and jumped off the bed. “What’s wrong, Merlin?”

Merlin trailed his hands through his hair. “Arthur, I don’t know why you feel the need to be in relationships, even when you’re not in one, but I can’t do it anymore. I want something real.”

Arthur sighed and leaned back against the bedroom door. “I want that too, Merlin.” He hung his head. “I think about what my parents had and want that, too. That’s why I’m looking for someone to love.”

Merlin burst out laughing.

Arthur looked at him with shock and then rising anger. 

Merlin covered his mouth. “I’m so sorry. But open your eyes, Arthur. Did you really think you’d find everlasting love with _Vivian_?” Merlin got up and walked toward Arthur. “You deserve real love, Arthur. I just think when you find it, you’ll be too blind to see it.”

Arthur and Merlin stared at each other. After a second, Arthur blinked slowly and opened the door hesitantly and walked out while still staring at Merlin.

Merlin sighed deeply and shut the door, banging his head against it repeatedly.

~*~

They didn’t speak the next few days. Arthur would leave in the morning and Merlin would deliberately hide in his room. When Arthur would come home, Merlin would either go to work or hide out at Will’s flat. 

A week after their fight, Merlin heard a knock on the door in the middle of the afternoon. When he opened the door, he was shocked to see Arthur standing on the other side.

“Arthur, what are you doing? Did you lose your-”

“I’m ready to open my eyes now, Merlin.” He looked adorably nervous. “Would you care to join me for dinner?”

Merlin smiled slowly. He grabbed Arthur and hauled him inside. Dinner happened...eventually.

–---------------------------------------

44.

When Merlin Emrys took the stand, a hush fell over the entire hemicycle. The usual buzzing of parliamentary activity came to an abrupt halt. 

"Magic is a tool.” Emrys said, “The people that wield it can serve their community and earn a living using their innate gifts."

He paused at the word 'innate'. Government still hadn't taken an official stance on the origins of magic despite scientific proof.

"Those that choose to abuse it are no more or less accountable for their actions than non-magic criminals picking up a gun or knife."

Arthur watched his father in the corner of his eye. He was already signalling to Aredian, the party’s personal ‘witchfinder’. 

Arthur needed to get to Emrys first.

"You must be insane talking about magic like that." Arthur said by way of introduction when he found Merlin in one of the backrooms. 

"Hi, I’m Merlin Emrys,” Merlin said in response, smiling and offering to shake his hand.

Arthur ignored it. “Listen. They’re not going to let you leave the building. Aredian will try to get to you. Follow me. I will get you out of here.”

Merlin simply nodded, suddenly serious. He followed Arthur to his car. Driver Lance, didn’t ask any questions and they both got quickly inside. Security would never dream to look inside of Arthur Pendragon’s limousine. 

“Prince Arthur,” Merlin started, when they were well on their way, “Son of Uther Pendragon, worst Prime Minister us magic folk have ever known. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Arthur felt anger rising. The nickname, he'd heard often enough before, but Emrys outing himself as a wizard with such carelessness! 

“You…” Arthur didn’t know where to start, “You shouldn’t just admit you’re a sorcerer!”

Merlin looked up innocently. 

"Those people back there, they have all the power in the world to take you apart," Arthur continued.

Merlin simply smiled again. "I can protect myself."

Arthur's eyebrow quirked up. “I hope that’s true.”

“I know I don't need it against you." Merlin continued, in a softer voice.  
Arthur looked up sharply at that. It was one thing to know about his public life. But could Merlin really know about the role Arthur was playing in protecting his half-sister and her protégé, Mordred?

“Do you have a safe place to stay?” Arthur asked instead.

“Not exactly somewhere a government car can just drop by,” Merlin answered. 

"You're coming up then?” Arthur asked when they’d reached his block. 

"What else am I going to do?" But Merlin didn't sound resigned.

It didn't sink in that he was taking Merlin up to his apartment, as if he was bringing him home after a date. Until the moment they stepped into the lift. Suddenly it felt as if the air was sucked from the tiny space they were in. When he looked up to see if Merlin was similarly affected, he ended up being pressed against the lift mirror with Merlin fiercely kissing him.

It took a moment to process what was happening. Unsurprisingly his body and instincts were a lot quicker to react than his brain was. Feeling the hard length of Merlin’s cock pressed against his, he realized he had gotten painfully hard as well. He returned the kiss, a little helplessly, on hand flinging to Merlin’s dark, messy hair and another pulling him even closer still. 

By the time they’d stumbled out of the lift and into Arthur’s penthouse flat, Merlin’s hand was already well into Arthur’s boxers and returning the favour, Arthur had managed to unbutton and unzip Merlin’s trousers. 

Too desperate to get naked, Arthur didn’t even stop to show Merlin the bedroom. Instead the fell onto the couch undressing in a frenzy of movement. 

It felt as if they had done it a million times. They fell into an easy rhythm; Merlin riding him, their bodies fitting perfectly together. Looking up into Merlin’s eyes, it seemed as if there was something familiar about them. Like coming home after a long journey. 

They did reach the bedroom eventually. Despite both being in a pleasant state of post-orgasmic bliss, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Exploring every bit of Merlin’s body seemed a matter as urgent as life or death. 

When they were finally sated, Arthur nuzzled Merlin’s neck, spooning him.

“Don’t go back to the hemicycle. You’ll get yourself killed.” Arthur murmured into Merlin’s skin when they were on the verge of falling asleep. 

“I have to go back,” Merlin said quietly, “until the day someone stands up with me.”

Arthur kissed Merlin softly on the lips. A promise. 

–--------------------

45.

 

It's a completely unremarkable Saturday in October, but in a quiet London bookshop Arthur knows what is coming. Time is drawing closer, sucking in the seconds until the clock strikes twelve, and there's the expected knock on his door before the last chime has even faded in the silence of the room. 

Trying to calm his fluttering heart, Arthur takes another sip of his tea and the knock turns impatient, the urgency of his caller apparent. When he pulls the door open, Merlin stumbles into his arms, his long black coat tightly wrapped around him, and Arthur sucks in a sharp breath.

''You look awful,'' he frowns, trying to hide his worry, which earns him a heated glare.

''Fuck you, Arthur, it hurts, okay? You know it hurts!''

Arthur studies him with trepidation. He _does_ know that the need hurts Merlin - so much more and differently than it hurts Arthur - but it seems worse this time. Merlin's eyes are red rimmed, his skin even paler than usual and he's shaking. 

''Would you... like some tea?'' Arthur asks hesitantly, but Merlin only grimaces.

''No. If you don't mind, I'd just like to fuck.''

Arthur nods and beckons Merlin to follow him up the stairs. He has a bed, even though he doesn't sleep much, and Arthur stands next to it now, his back turned, as he slips out of his shoes and takes off his cuff links. Then he realises Merlin is still lingering in the door, nervously shifting on his feet, and raises a questioning eyebrow at him. Merlin huffs and steps inside, shrugging off his coat before he hesitantly pulls his shirt over his head.

Arthur's eyes widen when he sees Merlin's whole body muddled with green and blue and angry stripes of red. He's next to him in a heartbeat, reaching out to touch Merlin's skin, which elicits a relieved sigh. 

''What happened?'' Arthur croaks, his throat feeling constricted. He shouldn't care, he knows, but he can't help it.

''Got found out,'' Merlin shrugs. ''My Lord's not happy with the company I keep.''

Arthur doesn't know what to say. Theirs has always been a unique situation, and there's no solution – it's just what it is. A connection that keeps pulling them together in a vicious cycle which they can't escape. He lets his hands glide over Merlin's skin, gently stroking over his abused flesh, letting the bruises fade until they are hardly more than memory.

''You shouldn't do that,'' Merlin reminds him with a weak smile. ''You're not supposed to use your powers on someone like me.''

''I'm supposed to use them to ease people's suffering, and that's what I'm doing.''

''I'm not people,'' Merlin says softly and Arthur kisses him, because, no, Merlin isn't, but he's still his other half and it hurts to see him in so much pain.

Merlin sighs into his mouth and then his long nimble fingers open the buttons of Arthur's shirt and hurriedly tug at his fly. He shimmies out of his own jeans with a few wiggles of his arse and Arthur pulls him closer with a moan. 

It's not the same for him. Their separation doesn't hurt him like Merlin, _His_ presence sees to that. But being with Merlin, touching him, is still the only time that Arthur feels truly complete. It always makes him wonder whether he, too, is close to falling, teetering on the brink of the abyss, Merlin like a weight that's pulling him down.

They stumble to the bed and stretch out on the cool sheets, both of them naked now, and just giving in to the need. Soon, Merlin rides him with the abandon of a martyr, a sinner turned saint, and so beautiful Arthur can hardly look at him. 

When he tightens around him on the brink of pleasure, Merlin's wings break forth, spreading out like midnight and reaching up to the heavens in a helpless cry. Arthur sits up and wraps his arms around his brother, the other half of his soul, pushing into him and desperately seeking the unity that should always be theirs. His own wings unfold with his release, bright like the first snow of winter, emitting the light of _His_ grace just like Merlin's swallow it up into their velvet depths. 

Arthur looks up into the blue eyes of his partner, tinged with the fire of his new Lord, and presses a kiss to his forehead. It's a secret benediction, a mark to sooth the painful longing - until it turns too great and Merlin will come knocking again. Merlin's lips curve into a beautiful smile then. It's angelic, and completely inappropriate for the demon he's become.

–---------------------------------------

46.

Gwen knows it’s more of a closet than a proper cycle shop, but it’s hers: she carved out the space for it with her own hands and sweat and tears, and it holds a universe for her. The neighbors stare at her grease-stained breeches and unbound breasts, but Gwen’s grown used to that. She collects and classifies the looks she catches -- and sometimes, when she’s lucky, she has a chance to follow up and make good on them, tune a little something more than an engine and its gears.

Lancelot comes every fall, regular as clockwork. He has his cycle worked over, and then he works Gwen over in turn, leaving her lazily satisfied as he pulls his goggles on and takes off again across the sands. Morgana’s a more frequent visitor. She sweeps in with the best an airship empire can buy and slides the cloth from Gwen’s hair before her engine’s off, digging her fingers deep into Gwen’s curls before finding other, better places to explore. She leaves Gwen perfumed with sex, the lingering smell of Morgana’s cunt rubbed deep into her skin. Merlin brings her his crotchety dragon of a cycle every other week: the old thing is always puffing and snorting, six inches from the grave. She tries to convince him to take her up on the offer of a newer model, but he refuses. Gwen understands. It’s a magnificent creature, an adventure to work on, cogs and wrenches spread around her as she coaxes its old frame into new life. Merlin’s an adventure, too, when he finishes stammering and gets his clothes off, gets his knees and ass dirty on the floor of her workshop. 

There are others, of course. Gwen’s a prosperous mechanic, enough that she can afford her dalliances and be choosy with them. She looks for the spark in their eyes, the way Freya’s do when she sees Gwen in the leather jacket she’d handsewn with charms; the way they moan, as Mithian does when Gwen wears her riding boots to bed and nothing else; the way they unwind her as eagerly as Gwaine when his head is between her thighs. She’s prosperous enough to entertain Arthur himself, mayor though he is. His bike is gorgeous: old and beautifully cared-for, and it roars under her when he lets her drive, just as he roars when she rides him instead.

Arthur would offer marriage in a heartbeat, if she would let him. It would be tempting, but Gwen takes too much solace in the quiet nights she spends alone in her shop, her hands slipped not into someone else’s but into her own machine -- the one she loves, her first; the one that loves her back as hard as any cycle can. She would have to give it up, were she the mayor’s wife: a cycle like this would hardly be dignified. Free as she is, she can ride it west of Hell and back, trading her breeches for her best riding skirt, with no one the wiser to the alterations she’s made.

The cycle is her own design, developed to fit her needs exactly. With her skirts spread, there’s no one to see that the gears which turn the wheels also slide a slim rod through the seat inside her, a far more satisfying fuck than any of her talented lovers. Her neighbors waving to her as she zooms by have no idea that as she waves back, a small contraption is vibrating with the motion of the engine _just so_ between her legs as the cycle fucks her open, shifting with her body until she reaches the long open highway outside of town and she can open the throttle fully, hair and skirts streaming out behind her triumphantly as she lets go to scream into the wind. 

–--------------------------------------

47.

She only goes to him when she’s bleeding. 

The first morning of the month, when she wakes up with something wet between her legs, she slides her hand down her body, lightly touching herself. When her fingers come back red, she sighs in relief and her waiting is over. 

She slips from her chambers and quickly makes her way down the hall. She slips quietly into the next room and quickly into the bed, wrapping herself around the sleeping figure.

She accidentally brushes her feet against his leg and he startles into wakefulness.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.

“Want you,” she moans, rutting up against him.

“Oh?” he questions. Then again in a moan, “Oh!” he cries as she takes his hardening cock in her hand and starts stroking. 

She slides out of her nightgown and slots herself against his side, wrapping her leg over one of his strong legs, still relaxed and warm with sleep. She kisses along his neck, biting down lightly as she continues to stroke him into full hardness.

“I’m not still dreaming, am I?” he asks, dazed. “You’re really here, right?”

“Yes,” she whispers against his clavicles. “Yes, it’s time.”

He makes an appreciative noise as she pulls his nightshirt up over his head and then presses their chests together. He reaches down and hooks a finger under her chin, raising her face to capture her lips in the first kiss they’ve shared in a month. It’s desperate and deep and dirty and everything she’s been wanting. 

She straddles his lap rocking her hips back and forth and feeling his cock slide against her thighs. She loves looking down at him like this: hair wild, eyes fuzzy with desire. She wishes she could always look at him from this angle. 

He reaches up and grabs handfuls of her breasts at the same time as she guides his cock into her. He moans and pinches her nipples as she slides down, filling herself fully. 

“You feel so good inside me,” she says, lifting herself back up and lowing herself again. 

“You feel so good,” he corrects, thrusting up his hips to meet her. “Want you all the time.”

“I know,” she says sadly. “I know.”

She leans down and licks into his mouth, pressing all the love and want and desire she has into him. She rocks back and forth, gripping his shoulders tightly for leverage, moaning into his mouth as his cock finds that special place inside of her. 

She leans back as she feels her orgasm build inside of her, letting her hair fall down her back as she arches up. He grabs her by the waist and thrusts harder, faster, almost erratically into her and then he’s tensing up and they both scrabbling at each other, desperately kissing through their orgasms. 

She presses her forehead against his as they catch their breath, and smiles down at him. 

“That was perfect,” she says, punctuating her praise with a light kiss. 

She pulls herself off and ignores the mess of come and blood that drips down her legs and falls onto his crotch. It doesn’t both either of them – they know that this is the only way.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning,” she promises as she wraps herself in her dressing gown and she moves to the door.

“Morgana, I–“ he says, holding out a hand as if to stop her. She turns back to look at him, but he’s already accepted things. “Yeah, tomorrow.”

Morgana rushes back to her own chambers and throws herself back into her bed. She can still feel where he held her; still feel his seed dripping between her legs. 

“Arthur,” she gasps into her pillow, touching herself. Oh, the things we could be if you weren’t my brother.

–------------------------

48.

“I don’t like this.” Arthur struggled to get his foot up over his knee, though why anyone thought this was a good position for meditation (or anything else) was beyond him. He yanked his ankle up and added for emphasis, “I really don’t like this.”

Merlin, of course, was already in a perfect lotus position, eyes closed in serene contemplation. He cracked one eye open at Arthur. “Then why do you keep coming?”

Arthur harrumphed and closed his own eyes. They both knew why. He kept coming because—well, he wasn’t sure he ever actually stopped coming after the last session.

“Welcome, everyone!” The instructor (Arthur refused to call him a guru, on account that he was white and annoying) entered the room. “Welcome to Cycle 6, the final cycle of your love and ecstasy training. Today we’ll be celebrating the Tantric keys that will allow you to release your taboos and limiting beliefs and fully access a transcendent state of pleasure.”

Rolling his eyes while his eyelids were shut proved difficult and not very satisfying, but Arthur did it on principle. “What a tool,” he muttered, and was heartened by Merlin’s muffled snort of laughter.

A moment later a hand fell onto Arthur’s shoulder. He opened his eyes to find the smiling face of their instructor (Greg, or Gavin, or Gwahir, or something like that) hovering in front of him like a long-haired, bearded hippy Cheshire Cat.

“Arthur, Merlin, let’s start with you,” he said. “Are you ready to shed your emotional armor and give yourself over wholly to the love of your partner?”

“You betcha,” Merlin chirped. 

Arthur sighed. “You betcha,” he echoed through gritted teeth. What did Garth know about the love of his partner, anyway? He’d loved Merlin since he’d pushed him into the sandbox when they were five. Merlin had got up and promptly sat on him in revenge, and that had been that, Arthur’s heart gone with no returns. 

“Right, then let’s begin with our breathing. Take each other’s hands and concentrate on breathing together. Use your breath to cycle the energy through your body and into the body of your lover.”

Despite Arthur’s disdain for the new age theatrics, Merlin’s palms sparked against his with an energy that went straight down Arthur’s spine. This is what Arthur came for (and from).

Merlin’s eyes, when Arthur could really focus on them, were that kind of intense blue that made him feel like he was soaring, freefalling with a net or chute. Or plunging—yes, that was more accurate. Plunging deeper into a warm sea that surged around him in unconditional welcome.

Much like Merlin’s body welcomed him, when their sexual energy become a self-sustaining cycle and Gustav quietly instructed that it was time to undress. 

He settled Merlin in his lap, settled himself inside Merlin, and breathed. The knot of pleasure in his groin expanded as they rocked together, until it coursed through his veins and arteries, pervaded every cell of his body, enveloped every thought, and soon extinguished thought altogether.

When they were like this, Arthur knew who he was. Who he had been, through all the turns of the ages that had come before. Who he could be, joined with Merlin.

He breathed over Merlin’s lips and laughed into his mouth with a giddy understanding that zinged through his mind (would be gone when he tried to remember it later). The ecstasy had nothing to do with Gilbert and his tantric mantras—it was Merlin, ever and always Merlin and the magic that shivered through him, as greedy for Arthur as he was for it.

Eventually, he started to come.

But it didn’t matter. Like always, it was just the beginning.

–------------------------------------

49.

In summer, he cut his hair.

Like the man of practicality, he tired of brushing the fringe from his brow all day. You thought that, perhaps, it did not look too bad. It was easier to wash and he would wipe soap on your face, wetting your shirt and pulling your neckerchief. His skin was tan and freckled, his lips a sunburnt cherry. His muscles carved deeper into his skin and you would trace the ridges on his stomach, taut from constant use.

He and summer were born for each other; no one could ripen beneath the warm sun and inspire a kingdom like he. You wondered if your magic was capable of stopping time perpetually, a grassy field at his feet, a smile just for you. You rolled around with him, flattening flowers and frightening bees, tickles and laughs like touches and gasps. 

As the sun glinted from his skin and his chest rose and fell, you thought that there was nothing more perfect in the world than your king in summertime.

In fall, he gave you his mother’s ring.

He made your wear it on a chain beneath your clothes, a silent weight upon your skin. Time moved slowly and you wished your magic had acted sooner, had paused earlier before. Orange and red painted the city and his glow was smoldered, burning from within without the heat of a fire. His movements were more relaxed, his cup flowed more freely. He encouraged you to take a break, his grin tense like a happy day that preceded unending night. A terrible grief masked by joyless laughter.

He would lie beside you at night and whisper about the future he had planned, of the world that was yet to be. He asked you if you would swear fealty to him and the kingdom, to serve him for the rest of his rule. He asked you if you would wear his ring one day and make him the happiest man that ever could be. You could only smile and nod your head as your eyes burned behind their lids, the fragment of your heart incapable of breaking any further for all that could have been.

 

In winter, he went away.

Like the creatures in the woods and the wildlings of the earth, he laid himself to rest for a spell. Snow blanketed the world and hid away the lake beneath a glass. The castle was quiet and the walls grew thick with age and grime. It was cold and barren and things had changed too quickly for you to continue, too much to fit in the hollow between your bones.

You thought that everyone who followed was little more than an expelling of breath, a withered leaf fallen from its branch. No more uncommon or painful than the blink of an eye. A field of green had browned and faded, a lifetime of bliss entombed in a tear drop. The sun was dim and the world was as mute as a broken lyre, cut strings strangled of sound. You wondered if it was possible to disappear into the trees, to simply cease to exist.

In spring, he is born anew.

Like the flowers from the earth and the stars in the sky, so too does he arise. His speech is funny and he struggles to escape his rusted trappings. He mentions that it is you who must cut their hair and you do not respond, your lips sewn shut. He cannot understand you anyway. But he smiles and places his hands on his hips, surveying the foreign land from which he came. A king as always, it seems.

He reaches for you and pulls you close, hugging you in a way that does not need words to understand. His kiss is sweet and short and he brushes your tears away, straightening your shoulders and chiding you for it. He is here, he reminds you. The time is now. He puts his arm around your shoulders, replacing the other at his hip, and points out the buds that have bloomed, the world that has woken. It was a long winter but spring has come and there is much to see, he says. Yes, you say, there is still much to see.

–-----------------------------------------------------

50.

On Morgana's eighteenth birthday Uther bought her a brand new Singer VS1 sewing machine, for which she thanked him sweetly before turning it over to her maid, along with three pairs of her brother's trousers. "He owes me these," she explained, "because of all the things he gets for having been born with a prick. You'll make the adjustments, won't you, Gwen?"

"Of course, Mistress."

Sure enough, at Arthur's next birthday he, being a boy, was given the penny-farthing Morgana wanted and deserved. She watched him tip over the enormous front wheel and, while he was recovering, took it out for a spin.

"That," she told Gwen, with her face flushed, her legs shaking and her groin throbbing, "is the most fun I've had since I figured out a second use for my hairbrush."

Gwen looked down – her usual charming modestly, Morgana thought, before realising she was in fact studying the bicycle's design. "It's no wonder people fall, with the pedals so hard to reach. And it obviously wasn't made for those of us who wear skirts."

"Well, there's no reason we should have to wear skirts," Morgana said smugly, thinking of the admiring glances she'd received from the likes of Elena Gawant and Mithian Nemeth since she'd started wearing Gwen's well tailored outfits.

"They ought to move them back so you'd have better leverage," said Gwen. Use gears to make the movement more powerful. My brother's a railroad mechanic, did you know? We were talking about it last Sunday, comparing the gears on a locomotive to the ones in your sewing machine. Now _that's_ a marvelous invention! The vibrating shuttle moves much more smoothly than the old oscillating model. Would you like to see?"

Morgana frowned. She'd never had any use for vibrating or oscillating shuttles before, and certainly not for sewing. Then again, she'd also never thought to wonder whether Gwen had a brother, or would like to ride a bicycle, or cared how machines worked. She'd never even stopped to notice before how very pretty Gwen's face was, especially with her eyes lit up as they were now. All at once Elena and Mithian were the last thing on Morgana's mind.

The shuttle, it turned out, was a steel shell in the shape of a bullet, somewhat smaller than her finger. "The thread goes in the bobbin, here," Gwen demonstrated, "and then into the machine. And when I pedal the treadle, like this, it moves in an _arc_ , while the needle goes up and down. Ingenious, isn't it?"

Gwen had been working the mechanism as slowly as possible in order to help Morgana understand, but now she sped it up, till soon the shuttle and needle were moving faster than Morgana's eyes could follow, one bright shining blur, and the whole cabinet began to vibrate. Morgana set her hands on Gwen's shoulders and waited for maid and machine to still.

"I've been thinking," said Gwen, pulling out the shuttle again and standing up to face Morgana, "what if this piece weren't buried inside? What if you still could pedal to move it, just as fast, but only a tiny distance? Every time you touched it would be… like a train rolling by!"

Morgana fingered the tiny cock in Gwen's hand. "You wouldn't want it bigger?"

Gwen shook her head. "I've never wanted that, anything to go inside me like… like some girls do." She lowered both their hands and the shuttle to her crotch, and pressed. "I just want the pressure, and –"

"The movement," said Morgana, backing Gwen up against the wall. Gwen clutched at Morgana's arm. "Shall I stop?" Morgana said quickly

"No!" Gwen cried. "But I want –" She lifted up her skirts and pulled Morgana's hand inside her drawers.

Morgana kissed Gwen's mouth and let her fingers trace back along the wet seam. Her thumb held the shuttle in place, squeezed with a few layers of cloth between Morgana's raised leg and Gwen's clitoris. Gwen wrapped her arms around Morgana's neck and Morgana leant in, whispering, "When my come into my inheritance I'll build you a factory," as she began to thrust against her. "You can make anything you want."

"I'll build you a _much_ better bicycle," Gwen promised.

Morgana smiled and sped up the motion of her leg till she was all but shuddering into Gwen. "In the meantime I'll just ride you."

She'd never had such faith in the future as when Gwen shuddered and came in her hand.

–------------------------------------------

51.

“I promise, I’ll be good I promise!” Merlin cries. 

The pleads are heart-rending but Arthur stands his ground. “No, Merlin, it’s for your own good,” Arthur says, and upturns the bottle over the sink. 

Merlin sobs loudly, like Arthur is the one doing something wrong. 

Arthur doesn’t know who is more tortured here. He wishes Hunith and Balinor were still around. 

***

When things are good, they seem almost normal. 

Merlin rides Arthur. He’s flushed and gorgeous, his lean body grinding down enthusiastically. Arthur cries out in pleasure despite himself, lost in Merlin’s tight heat and wet kisses. 

Merlin groans and moans, louder and louder until he shoves his butt all the way down, and keeps it there as his hole clenches and Arthur’s dick pulses. 

Merlin lies on him, sated and happy. Arthur looks at him in this rare moment of peace and his heart aches. 

***

Gwen is on the line. “You mustn’t blame yourself,” she says. Her voice is tinny over the connection all the way from South America or wherever she and Lance are. 

“Yeah, well,” Arthur says. What is there to say? 

That if Merlin really loved him, he’d stop? 

That of course it was his fault Merlin was in this state? 

That if only he’d been more supportive, if he’d stopped Merlin from taking “just a glass to calm my nerves” after the funeral, Arthur could have stopped it? 

“Yeah,” Arthur says again. 

***

Merlin holds Arthur's hand at the cocktail reception. Arthur knows they make a stunning pair, ebony and ivory, the very image of the golden couple. They only see Uther once, when they first step into the hotel ballroom. 

"Merlin!" Giaus says, and hugs both of them. "I haven't seen you since the last company do!" 

Merlin laughs and jokes with Giaus, then with Gili, and Mithian. As always, people flock towards him, and linger for the easy conversation and the warmth that Merlin radiates. 

Once or twice, Arthur has to excuse himself, if only to hide momentarily from the charming presence of his boyfriend. It's too painful. When did Merlin get to be as good as Arthur in faking? 

***

 

Merlin arrives home in the early hours of the morning, clothes rumpled and stinking. There is a bruise on his cheek. Arthur has given up waiting for him. Given up asking where he’s been. Merlin wouldn’t be able to remember anyway.

Arthur wishes he could forget too, but he doesn’t have the same luxury as Merlin. 

***

“Maybe you should get some help too,” Morgana says. Arthur had to tell her so she could help hide it from Uther. 

“Me? Why me?” Arthur says. Merlin is the one who’s sick. Arthur is already so busy juggling his job, his dad, his life “outside” when Merlin was doing his programme. The last thing Arthur felt like was doing one more thing “to help him”; that very thought turned Arthur’s stomach. If he really loved Merlin, he’d do what it took right? 

***

Merlin kisses Arthur, all tongue and spit. Arthur endures it for as long as he can, then pulls away. 

"Bye, dear, see you tonight. Pasta for dinner!" Merlin says. Behind him, the flat sparkles, the result of Merlin's sudden burst of cleaning last night. 

It's not the flat that Arthur wants to see clean. He is in a foul mood all the way to the office. 

***

Merlin has switched to vodka now; it’s colourless and odourless. In contrast, Merlin’s promises have become more florid and impassioned. Two steps forwards and three steps back. 

Arthur looks at the bookmark and feels like screaming. 

_“God grant me the serenity to accept the_  
things I cannot change,  
the courage to change the things I can  
and the wisdom to know the difference.” 

***

It’s like living with two people. Arthur still sees that intelligent, funny, fun to be with, thoughtful, kind and gentle man that attracted him and broke through his walls. He knows that when Merlin is gone, he becomes selfish, devious, thoughtless; Arthur knows all this, but still loves him. 

Arthur’s lost track of the number of Merlin’s “recoveries”. It feels like a never-ending hell.

–------------------------------------------------

52.

Arthur was splayed out on his bed, arse on top of a pillow and one of his hands around the base of his cock squeezing to stave off his orgasm. His other hand twisted the vibrator inside him, his muscles twitched around it as the ridges brushed over his prostate and a load of precome oozed out of his hard cock despite the hand wrapped firmly around the base. He moaned and pressed the button on the vibrator and the vibrations changed to a pulsation that was three hard and quick vibrations followed by a longer one. Arthur loved the way the vibrator could be programmed to cycle through different vibration settings on it own. It made the ludicrous amount of money he'd spent on the damn thing almost worth it. 

A minute later the vibration changed on its own to a buzz-pause-buzz of vibration and Arthur's hips involuntarily pushed themselves up slightly with every hum of the vibrator until it changed vibration again. There it was, the setting that made Arthur see stars because it almost felt like someone was pushing into him erratically occasional pulses that seemed to have no rhyme or reason to them. Arthur let go of his cock as he pulled out the vibrator and pushed it in as far as it would go and arched off the bed as he screamed out his pleasure.

"Fuck," Arthur cursed when he came down from his orgasm and his arse crashed back down on the pillow forcing the vibrator even deeper inside him. He reached for the vibrator to pull it out of his ass but his fingers skirted against his asshole instead. Arthur's eyes widened as he placed his thumb and forefinger inside himself and tried to pull out the vibrator. He only succeeded in pushing it in even further.

Arthur decided to let it be for a bit and tried to relax his muscles but the relaxation was ruined by the vibrator going through it's cycles and pressing against Arthur's prostate with enough vibrations to have him arching his back up.

Arthur sighed as he realized that there was no way out of this and he needed to call on Merlin in order to get the vibrator out of his ass. Arthur reached for his phone.

_How annoyed would you be if I needed medical attention right now? -AP_

_Pretty damn annoyed. Why? What did you do? -ME_

_I... uh... It's not important? I'll get someone else to take care of it. -AP_

_Oh fuck right off. Just tell me what's happening, Arthur. -ME_

_I got a vibrator stuck in my ass... okay? -AP_

_Oh. Uh... -ME_

_First of all... flared bases only for anal play. -ME_

_Second of all... take a bath and let me know in a half an hour if it doesn't slip right out. -ME_

Arthur looks at his phone for a minute before walking into the bathroom and running the water so that he'll have a nice hot bath. He sighs as he sits in the water and leans his back against the tub's edge.

Half an hour later and nothing has changed. His ass is still gripping against the vibrator.

_Uh... the bath didn't help. -AP_

_Well, shit. -ME_

_How much do you trust me? -ME_

_Implicitly. Why? -AP_

_Because I'm going to need to pull it out of your ass manually, Arthur. -ME_

–---------------------------------------

53.

There’s a lady in the fountain 

Vivian sees her sometimes, outside in the courtyard. She doesn’t take any of the mountains of coins, glittering in the shallow water of the pool. She doesn’t swim in it. Instead the lady folds herself neatly on top of the white plaster boar shooting jets of water from its tusks and sits. Waiting.

Vivian sometimes thinks she looks up to where Vivian watches her, peeking through a crack in the curtains. It’s silly, she knows. 

Still. 

*  
 _I wish…_

Vivian sits on the edge of the fountain, heels in hand, and massages her feet. The subway was an overheated crush of sweaty bodies the way it always gets in summer. She forgot her flats at the office and even her trusty kitten heels are killing her today. 

“I love your shoes,” says a voice from the fountain. Vivian turns and there she stands, face mild despite the fact that she’s soaked, and her white dress is doing very little to preserve her modesty. “They look like they hurt though. I‘ve found if soak your feet in here sometimes it helps.”

Vivian looks down at the lady’s bare feet. “Won’t security chase us out?”

“They’d have to catch me first,” she says, a sly grin turning up the corners of her mouth. 

Vivian laughs. The water is blessedly cool. 

*  
 _I wish…_

“I don’t think I gave you my name, or thanked you for the tip,” Vivian tells the lady. “I’m Vivian, I live in apartment 3B.” 

Vivian also spent most of the day at the office trying to remember what color her eyes were, what sound she’d made when she laughed. 

“I’m Freya,” she says, giving Vivian subtle elevator eyes. Vivian preens a little. She’d cleaned up before coming down today, lipstick firmly water resistant and hair done up, though already curling where it’s damp.

Vivian hikes up her skirt and climbs in. She shivers a little, and produces the bottle of wine she’d kept even after the engagement had broken. 

“Fancy adding to your list of misdemeanors?”

“I could think of worse ways to spend and evening,” says Freya and pops the cork. 

They pass the bottle between them, talking until the sun sinks and the air turns cold. Vivian’s lying half-in half-out of the water, drunk, drenched and happier than she’s been in months. 

“I’ve always wanted to sleep on a huge pile of money,” she murmurs into Freya’s ear as Freya pours her out of the pool. 

“It’s not just money, it’s people’s wishes.” 

“Wishing doesn’t change shit.” Vivian stumbles to her feet. Freya’s close enough to kiss, if she dared. 

She doesn’t. 

*  
 _I wish…_

Dinner is minute rice and sad chicken, company is the eight o’clock news anchor. 

Vivian is going to scream. 

The wedding invitation lies untouched on the counter. (Fuck Arthur, fuck all of them, for knowing and saying nothing. But fuck Arthur in particular for sending it anyway.)

The lights in the fountain are on. They cast deep shadows over the figures dancing, so that Freya only resolves out of the darkness when Vivian is standing right at the rim of the pool, shaking. 

“Vivian?” Freya puts a cool hand to her elbow, guides Vivian into the water. 

The edges of the coins dig into her feet, sharp reminders of the wishes she’s stepping on. The spray curls around them. Welcomes them in. 

Freya pulls her into a wet embrace. Vivian leans down and lets her head rest on Freya’s shoulder. Freya’s tiny enough Vivian could probably wrap her arms around her twice. The white noise of the fountain and the warmth of Freya wrapped around her are like a balm to a wound she didn’t realize was gaping.

Freya kisses Vivian’s hair, her neck. Vivian can feel the soft curves of her body through the practically transparent dress. All Vivian has to say is, _“Freya, please, I want-”_ and Freya’s hands turn soothing to seeking. 

She backs Vivian up against the ugly plaster boar, kissin a wet line down to her breasts, tugging at Vivian’s shirt. Vivian kisses her harder, deeper, Freya’s hands up her skirt to where she’s pulsing and wet. Vivian kisses the water off her skin, the metallic taste heavy on her tongue. Freya coaxes her thighs apart, wets her with her tongue until she’s burning in the water, stars blooming behind her eyelids.

*  
 _I wish…_

There are two ladies in the fountain. 

–-----------------------------------

54.

“Lock your door at night,” his mother always said, “or else the Big Bad Wolf will come take you away.”

The Big Bad Wolf was a human tale, but the wolves (like Merlin) knew it too, if a bit differently. The Big Bad Wolf took omega children in the night if they didn't lock their doors. He ate alpha children who mated without asking consent. And even the Big Bad Wolf was killed by a human, so it should be known to never, ever cross one.

As a child, Merlin would stay up at night, terrified, thinking that every noise at his window was the Wolf come to take him away. Then, as he got older, he saw the Wolf for the tale it was, and he took it far too lightly for his mother's liking.

So when Merlin was sixteen, and his mother left him alone in their cabin to go visit her brother in the town nearby, she told him, as always, “Lock the door at night.” 

And as always, Merlin nodded.

But he forgot to lock the door.

The day his mother left had been unnaturally hot, so much that even after dusk Merlin's pale skin was flushed and burning and slick with sweat. He thought that it was the waxing moon getting to him. The full moon was just two days away, and his body was already restless with it, impatient to change and run and howl. 

After nightfall he opened the door and windows in his little cabin, desperate to let in the cool night air, and he writhed irritably in his bed for hours until the restless energy in his body gained a warm, desperate pulse of want. His cock hardened and throbbed between his legs, and sweetly fragrant slick dripped down the backs of his thighs. He tried to ease the ache in the ways he knew how, but no matter how much he pulled his reddening cock or how many fingers he pushed into his slick, dripping hole, he couldn't come. It wasn't _enough._

A low, rumbling growl came from the door.

Merlin froze his ministrations, and his heart hammered with fear as he realized the figure in his doorway. It was a wolf. A giant, blonde wolf. _The Big Bad Wolf,_ come to take Merlin away.

The night breeze pushed in, brushing over the wolf's fur, and Merlin groaned. Alpha. His body's heat flared, singing to Merlin. _Alpha. Alpha will take care of him. Alpha will fix this. Alpha._ Merlin opened his thighs almost thoughtlessly in invitation.

The wolf stalked forward. 

Merlin's breath came in small pants, and his heart was painfully fast. He shook all over with fear and anticipation and need. When the wolf's muzzle grazed his thigh, Merlin whimpered. When a long, wet tongue lapped at his fingers, teasing the rim of his slick hole, he moaned so loudly that it was almost a desperate scream. He removed his fingers, and the wolf greedily took over, lapping up Merlin's juices, and tongue pushing in and in. Merlin curled his knees to his chest, moaning louder and louder.

The wolf slowly licked up the inside of Merlin's thigh before nipping the tender flesh and growling. Merlin peered at the wolf in dazed confusion, earning him another nip and a sideways nudge from the wolf's muzzle. 

_Turn over._

Merlin bit his lip nervously and obeyed. He trembled as he waited to feel the brush of fur as the wolf mounted him, but it never came. Instead he felt calloused hands spreading his cheeks, and a large, _human_ cock starting to push in him. Merlin tilted his head, catching just a glimpse of blonde hair and heavily scarred body. The man was older than Merlin, and he was calm and sure as he started to rut into Merlin's wet and aching hole.

“A-Ah!” Merlin scrambled. It was too much, not enough, what he needed, _too much._

The man growled and bared down over Merlin's back, pinning him in place and rutting, harder and harder. Merlin cried out with every thrust, sobbing with the feel of _so good, too much, so good, **more**_

A warm kiss pressed into the nape of Merlin's shoulder, a promise of a marking bite to come, just as the man's knot swelled inside him. Merlin rocked back against the pressure and choked on a broken moan as he finally, _finally_ came. 

The mating bite was barely felt under the wave of his pleasure and relief. 

–---------------------------------------------

55.

 **Title:** My whole life is a delicate cycle

From: Morgana  
To: Gwen  
Subject: HOT LAUNDRY GUY

Spill

From: Gwen  
To: Morgana  
Subject: Re: HOT LAUNDRY GUY

Seriously? Nothing to tell. 

From: Morgana  
To: Gwen  
Subject: Re: Re: HOT LAUNDRY GUY

Lies. He was hot and into you. I saw you blush.

From: Gwen  
To: Morgana  
Subject: Re: Re: HOT LAUNDRY GUY

I'm ignoring you to do work now

 

Gwen sighed as she clicked send. There hadn't been anything between her and the guy in the laundry. He had been a flirt, no doubt about it, but nothing more than that. Morgana had been with her – they had been revising together and Gwen didn't want to get too distracted.

~~~

Gwen hummed to herself as she pulled her clothes out of the dryer and folded them. They were warm and she had to resist the urge to wrap herself up in them. 

“Oh, hello again,” Gwen jumped and turned around. 

“Christ, you scared me,” she gasped. It was hot guy (she needed to stop calling him that). 

“Sorry,” he replied, smiling at her. “I'd say we must stop meeting like this, but I'd rather we didn't stop meeting.” 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Gwen replied. “Do those lines work?” 

“Not really,” Gwaine admitted. “But they make you laugh, so they're achieving something.”

~~~

It became a thing, Gwen and Gwaine meeting in the laundry. Morgana teasing her about it. 

~~~

Gwaine's beard was rough against her cheek as he kissed her neck. She let out a shuddery breath as Gwaine scraped his teeth against her neck. He lifted her up on top of the the whirring dryer, and she scooted her skirt up and her pants off, trying not to think about the door being unlocked. 

“Its late,” Gwaine whispered as he rolled a condom on. 

Gwen giggled and wrapped her arms around Gwaine's neck, kissing him. She felt naughty, cunt wet and tingly already and Gwaine wasn't even inside her yet.

The first push of Gwaine inside her made her gasp and dig her nails into his shoulders.

“You ok?” Gwaine asked, shakily. Gwen smiled and shook her head.

“Keep going,” she said, arching her back.

Gwaine swore and thrust, head falling forward. Gwen ran a hand through his hair, bunching it in her hand. 

Gwen murmured under her breath as Gwaine thrust into her, pleasure sparking up her spine. The machine kicked into high speed and she giggled as the vibrations started to go through her. 

“Good?”

“Good,” Gwen replied, clenching around Gwaine.

“Fuck fuck,” Gwaine said, thrusting harder. Gwen made a high-pitched noise as she came, arching her neck back. Gwaine grunted and stilled as he came.

He groaned as pulled out, leaning against the machine and pulling the condom off. He put it in the bin and started to pull his trousers back on. 

Gwen pulled her skirt down, panting.

“Bed next time,” Gwaine commented, kissing her. Gwen nodded and kissed him again. 

 

~~~

Gwen got back to her room, flushed and still a bit shuddery. She booted up her computer, still grinning. Her computer beeped to signal a new email.

From: Morgana  
To: Gwen  
Subject: WHENS THE WEDDING

I'll need to buy a hat. 

 

–---------------------------------------------------

56.

He's heard these beings come screaming into the world because they remember, just for a minute before the amnesia kicks in, the diverse and profound suffering they may face.  
Just for a moment, he's almost jealous of the ugly pink lump. Immortals like himself will know no other realm than this, but then, he thinks, neither will this squalling babe.  
He slips away through the shadows of the hospital corridor, just as he has slipped from bedchamber, barn, basement, and boudoir innumerable times before. Not yet, he thinks. Mothers, he has learned, are formidable forces not to be trifled with.

*

There are monsters in his closet, he can hear them. Tentacles wait under the bed to grab his feet, and if the blankets slip off in the middle of the night he'll be bitten by pixies.  
But worst of all are the cold shadows that slip by in the corner of his eyes.

*

The boy holds a séance in his basement not long after his fourteenth birthday.  
It's tempting to laugh. It's even more tempting to respond. He can't help feeling curious; never over the many years has the boy been so bold.  
Days later, when the blonde child stirs restlessly in his sleep, leans over from his perch on the dresser, and runs one pale finger down the warm cheek. He lets their eyes meet before slipping out into the night.

*

Arthur is nineteen when finally he is able to confront his demon. His actual, real life, demon.  
The monsters and the childish fears he grew out of, but never the shadows. The shadows are always there, in the corner of his eye. He thinks he sees a figure, sometimes, but never enough to be sure of himself. So when he sees those luminous orange eyes again, staring down at him in the dark, he gathers his courage, and speaks before the shadow can disappear.

“What are you?”

The creature steps into the light, revealing skin and hair the colour of the midnight sky, unnaturally high cheekbones, and unblinking, reptilian eyes of fiery orange.

“I am an angel.”

“You don't look anything like an angel.”

The man just grins a grin of pointed teeth.

“So you're my guardian angel?”

“We watch over the life cycles of mortals. I am the giver of life, and the bringer of death.”  
Arthur takes small step back, and the creature's grin grows wider.

“Does everyone have a...” Arthur gestures at the man,

“No.”

“Just those who are good?”

“There is no good and evil. It is an invention of man, and even he cannot define it.”

“Oh.”

Arthur isn't sure what he thinks of that. The demon-angel is drifting closer, slowly but surely, like some unrelenting force of nature, eyes never wavering from his own.

“You are the saviour, destined to be reborn until there is no womb to be born from.”

“And then you die?”

“I will continue on until I see the stars fade.”

Arthur feels his back bump up against the wall, not having realised he was retreating.

“I need sustenance.” the creature purrs. Arthur screws up his eyes and tries to melt into the wall.

He gasps in surprise when a cool hand unzips his jeans and slips into his boxers.

“You mean...?” He asks the man, who gives him a wicked but almost human smirk, and pulls his jeans to his knees.

The coolness of the hand is in stark contrast to the heat rising in Arthur's lower stomach. The creature seems to instinctively know what Arthur wants, but he's teasing, running a single finger repeatedly up the underside of Arthur's cock, until he's groaning, trembling, and harder than he thinks he's ever been in his life.

Then, when he's about to take matters into his own hands, the shadowy man drops to his knees, and Arthur stares openly as he fits his inky lips over flushed flesh, orange eyes still somehow unwavering.

Arthur's vision goes hazy as the world crumbles around him.

*

Both sat on the floor, panting, Arthur looks at the man; his eyes are blown and dazed, and somehow softer.

“What are you? Really?”

“I was once a mortal like you.”

“What happened?”

“You died.”  
–---------------------------------

57.

Litter tended to turn up in both the most expected and ludicrous of places. Knowing that, it was each and every person’s most important responsibility to seek out the trash cluttering up their planet, to stop the systematic degradation of nature that was taking place day by day, right before their very eyes! What type of world do you want your children to live in? A filthy, diseased planet or a thriving, healthy one?  
At least, this was the speech Arthur was supposed to give people as he handed out ‘Recycle, Reuse, Renew’ and ‘Save the Planet’ flyers. He did want to help the environment and make a difference. Honestly, he did, but if, while making that difference, it happened to drive Uther mental that his son was one of those ‘damned tree-hugging hippie bastards’ that was just a happy coincidence.  
Arthur was going on his merry way after successfully delivering his monologue to a newly married couple, when he caught sight of him. The cheeky bastard that Arthur swore only took walks to have the opportunity to antagonize Arthur twice a week.  
Not knowing his name led to Arthur labeling him ‘prattish guy’ in his head. Which was an apt description.  
Prattish guy was currently sucking on a lollipop, and playing with the wrapper in his other hand.  
He looked up, catching Arthur’s glare, and while staring him straight in the eye, tossed the wrapper over his shoulder in the general direction of a trash can. Which he missed by a mile.  
Arthur ground his teeth, and looked away. If it were any other bloke, he wouldn’t give a damn! Arthur wasn’t that anal about the environment that he thought picking up one loli wrapper would help overly much.  
Taking a deep breath, Arthur got in his car, which was nearly covered in ‘Go Green!’ and ‘Make Peace not War’ bumper stickers, and drove away, all the while applauding himself for his self control. The door only slammed because there’d been a sudden gust of wind.  
And he absolutely did not turn to look at the prat, who was flat out laughing at him.  
\------  
It was a Saturday evening, about two weeks later, when Arthur finally spoke to the prat. He had handed out flyers every Tuesday and Thursday for the last month, he'd constantly been there, throwing trash on the ground, uncaringly passing litter on the street, and smirking at Arthur all the while.  
He should’ve gone up to the guy the first time, but by now it was clear that the prat was trying to provoke Arthur, who _was not_ going to let him win!  
But that Saturday at the Save the Planet rally prattish guy actually showed up and had the nerve to brag loudly about all he did for the planet, how much he’d recycled in the last six months, and how much all that mattered to him.  
Arthur was furiously sipping his punch and death glaring at his stupid big ears that were not at all endearing, and at his stupid black floofy hair that was not attractive.  
It was just generally not a good night for Arthur. He’d overheard the prat introduce himself as Merlin Emrys, what with how loud he was talking, so he knew his name. But Arthur thought prat suited him better.  
He had turned to go, fed up with the whole thing, when he saw a little plaque under the main sign reading ‘Sponsored by Emrys Environmental Foundation’.  
Arthur did a double take. Seriously? Then why would he be littering? Arthur’s eyes searched for the object of his curiosity, and he saw Merlin bending over to pick up a discarded paper cup from the ground. Arthur’s eyes stayed glued to his arse, which was very nice, so it was highly embaressing when the prat-Merlin came striding over to him.  
“Well damn. I guess the jig is up now. You wouldn’t happen to still be interested, would you?” Merlin asked, tilting his head a bit and grinning like a true idiot.  
Arthur gaped at him. He knew he’d been flirting a bit, but did this guy have to be so…blunt about it?  
“…Maybe,” Arthur muttered sullenly.  
\-------

Hours later and Merlin was riding Arthur’s cock like he was made for it, not letting Arthur have control for a second, just moving his hips in these tight circles and panting, holding Arthur still with his thighs and just taking his own pleasure.  
It was excruciatingly slow paced, and soon Arthur was moaning Merlin's name and begging him to please god, just go faster.  
"I don't know," Merlin mused in between gasping breaths, "that's a lot of effort to put in for a maybe." He pushed his hips down particularly hard on the last word, and Arthur gasped in pleasure even as he rolled his eyes. "Just fuck me Merlin, and maybe you can get a yes."  
"Oh you'll be screaming yes in a minute," Merlin promised. And damn that prat, he was right. 

–----------------------

58.

Arthur wakes up.

Gwen’s fingers run through the water, the sleeve of her fine gown drenched. Her hair is streaked with white, and deep lines map history on her face. Arthur tries to reach for her but can't feel his hands. She has done a lot of frowning.

+++

Arthur wakes up.

There is nothing. For hours that might be days that might be years, the world is black and cold and there is no air.

+++

Arthur wakes up.

Morgana is weeping, her face pressed against a pretty, dark-haired woman’s breast. He strains to understand what Morgana is saying. In the end, he realises she’s just repeating, “I did this,” over and over as the girl he doesn’t recognise runs fingers through Morgana’s hair.

Arthur tries to say her name, but his tongue won’t move.

+++

Arthur wakes up.

Merlin’s face is a blur for a moment, just the black of his hair and the sharpness of his chin, the curve of his smiling mouth—unmistakable even through Arthur’s cloudy vision.

Arthur can’t quite catch his breath; his lungs feel tired. He realises Merlin is talking and tries to hold a hand up, to tell him to slow down, but his muscles don’t work.

All at once, Arthur remembers what it’s like to feel when Merlin’s hand finds his chest, one warm spot in the immense cold that eats at him. The heat spreads, fills him solid through, and this time when he tries to reach out a hand, he catches Merlin’s shoulder, which feels remarkably strong and not at all how Arthur remembers him.

“Sire,” Merlin says on an inhale, and Arthur misses the laugh that’s supposed to lurk behind the title. Merlin’s eyes have become too serious.

It doesn’t feel wrong when Merlin presses his lips to Arthur’s forehead. It feels absolutely _right_ when Merlin’s tongue finds its way into Arthur’s mouth, wet and desperate. Arthur feels like he’s been hard for ages, like he’s been aching for the heat of Merlin’s body longer than he’s been alive.

He’s not wearing clothes, and soon, neither is Merlin. Everything is Merlin, Merlin, Merlin, _Merlin_ as Arthur’s cock is clutched inside Merlin’s arse, wrapped in the finest velvet known to man.

Arthur’s neck is wet. When he turns his head to find Merlin’s lips, he sees that Merlin is crying.

“Are you hurt?” Arthur says, and his voice is hardly a whisper.

Merlin takes Arthur’s hand and holds it to his chest, over his heart, and Arthur understands; _in here_ , he means. He doesn’t know why Merlin is so sad, but he wants to make him feel better. After Arthur comes, spending himself into Merlin’s greedy body, he gets his mouth around Merlin’s cock, sucks him until he’s crying in ecstasy instead.

Merlin offers Arthur his water skin, and Arthur recoils in terror. He never wants to see water again, and he doesn’t understand why.

They play in the woods, and Merlin puts on a magic show, knights and dragons battling in the palm of his hand.

Arthur starts to remember. He remembers Gwen in her ceremonial gown, hair long under her crown. He remembers his knights, sparring in the grass, their shirts cast off and skin red from exertion and the sun. He remembers Morgana, hair matted and skin sallow, the anger in her voice.

“Where are they?” Arthur says, and Merlin kisses him.

Arthur thinks he should grieve, should push Merlin away, but he doesn’t. Merlin’s eyes are gold and heavy with tears, and Arthur almost understands what’s happening, but that knowledge leaves him, too, until all that’s left is fresh air and sunshine and Merlin’s skin.

They fuck again, harder this time, full of something Arthur can’t name because Merlin has taken it from him, is keeping him safe. Merlin comes hard, arse clenching sweet and painful around Arthur’s cock, and his come splatters across Arthur’s belly.

After Arthur comes, Merlin collapses onto his chest, boneless and sticky. Arthur feels sad for a moment, and then feels nothing but contentment.

“Maybe you can stay,” Merlin says into Arthur’s neck, voice fragile.

“I will,” Arthur promises, though he doesn’t know what it means.

It’s a perfect day.

+++

Arthur wakes up.

–-----------------------------------------

59.

Gwen walked towards the door but before she could knock it opened.

"Hello there. You must be my new maid,” she said with a soft, gentle smile. “I’m, Princess Morgana."

"Hello my lady. My name is Gwen. "

~*~

"My lady," Gwen whimpered,” I must tend to my duties."

Morgana looked up from between her legs with Gwen’s juice smeared all over her face. The sight made her blush. "Your duty is to please me, Gwen.”

She had a protest in mind but it faded when Morgana went back to licking her cunt.

"B-But I have laundry to - ah!"

Gwen’s train of thought was interrupted when Morgana started pumping two fingers in and out of her.

"Tell me, Gwen. Do you wish to tend to my laundry or do you want to come?" Morgana whispered, her breath brushing against her throbbing clit.

Gwen knew her answer immediately.

"I want to come my lady!"

Morgana smiled.

~*~

‘Goodbye Gwen,’ Morgana mouthed weakly from her death bed.

Gwen held back a sob. “Goodbye, Princess. May we meet again, my lady.”

She then took her last breath.

~*~

The jazz music traveled from the club and out onto the street. It spurred a moment of curiosity in Gwen which encouraged her to dart inside. In her haste to get through the door she bumped into another woman with short bobbed hair and a body clothed in a loose dress that bared her shoulders and neckline.

It was a sight that Gwen tried not to blatantly stare at but she had never been face to face with such a girl before.

“I apologize-“

“No need,” the woman interrupted before extending her hand. “Morgana Pendragon, and you are?”

“Gwen Jones.”

Morgana winked. “Welcome to the party, Ms. Jones.”

~*~

Gwen threw her head back and moaned as Morgana worried her nipple between her teeth. She released the nipple only to take the other one into her mouth and tease it into hardness.

“Morgana, please!”

Morgana released her nipple and drew Gwen into a passionate kiss.

“I’m so glad you could make it to my party again, Gwen,” Morgana whispered as she broke the kiss. “I was disappointed when you missed the last one.”

She could say nothing because at that exact moment, Morgana had dropped to her knees and hiked up her skirt. Two fingers slipped inside her wet slit which brought out a loud moan.

The tongue on her clit was her undoing.

~*~

“I’m getting married, Morgana.”

It was the last thing she said to Morgana before she killed herself.

“Goodbye, Morgana,” she wept at her grave. “May, we meet again.”

~*~

Gwen shifted uncomfortably in the cell. She regretted getting arrested during the protests at her campus but she also felt proud for speaking her mind about the war.

Still, when her father found out-

“What are you in for?”

The voice came from the cell across from her and interrupted her train of thought.

“Protesting on school grounds.”

“I thought you looked familiar,” she laughed. “What’s your name? I’m Morgana Pendragon.”

If Gwen squinted she could safely say the same thing. “Gwen Jones.”

“Nice to meet you, Gwen.”

~*~

The protest was broken up by police but they managed to get away. Once in her room, Gwen leaned against the wall in order to catch her breath.

“We almost got caught again, Morgana.”

“I know, but we didn’t.”

It was Gwen who initiated the kiss this time. She pushed the other woman onto the bed and kissed her deeply. It wasn’t long before she was running her hands down Morgana’s body. She could never keep her hands off Morgana for long.

She slipped her fingers into her jeans and pressed her fingers against the crotch of her panties which were damp.

The touch was teasing and light at first but then Morgana forced her leg between her own. She gently but firmly ground her knee against Gwen’s cunt. It prompted her to stop teasing Morgana and push her fingers inside.

"Make me come, Gwen." Morgana whispered as Gwen practically humped against her leg.

Gwen was more than happy to oblige.

~*~

Gwen clutched the picture of Morgana to her chest and sobbed. The police had opened fire and Morgana was the first shot.

"Good bye Morgana. May we meet again."

–------------------------------

60.

Merlin had been feeling cosy and warm at last, thinking about a nap, peacefully floating along, when he was rudely shaken.

“For the eleventh time, I am not a parasite!”

“That’s not what your ID says,” said the cell and shoved another receptor at him, prodding him again in search of a matching ligand. 

“Excuse me!” Merlin said, trying to maintain some dignity. Macrophages, honestly. Always so snotty and superior. Even if this one had a particularly nice round shape, and looked sort of shiny.

It was vibrating with suspicion. “There’s something about you. I can’t quite put my receptor on it.” 

“Ah, well, I’m not from around here. I usually hang around the, uh, little toe, you’ve probably never been, it’s really small and pretty far away and cramped. Anyway, just visiting some family,” Merlin lied and put on his best I’m-a-cell-that-belongs-in-this-body look. He wasn’t a parasite, honest, he just wanted a comfortable place to call home. Or anyplace to call home, really.

“Merlin!” he suddenly heard from across the plasma.

“Gaius?” He rushed forward in disbelief. 

“Arthur, please, this is my nephew. You must join us for the race, Merlin!”

“Hmph,” said Arthur. Merlin was too busy pressing himself fondly to Gaius to notice. Clearly, he’d managed to disguise himself, as well. And here Merlin had thought he’d never see his favourite speck of dust again. 

“Hmph,” said Arthur again, with feeling, at the display.

*

“Wheeee,” said Merlin, riding the Main Artery Current of the left arm. 

When he saw Arthur spin around nearby, between some other white blood cells, he only hesitated for a second before sailing right into him with a smack. Served him right. 

“Hey! You can’t treat me like this. A little respect!” 

But Merlin was laughing as he was quickly swept away. “What, don’t like it when you’re not the bully?” 

*

Arthur cornered him the next day. “ID!”

“You know I don’t have one. That’s just how it is, you know, down in the Little Toe. But you can call me Merlin.”

“I don’t trust you, _Merlin_. I’m not letting you out of my sight. If you put one protein out of line…”

“What, you’re going to lock me in a cell?”

“…”

“I’ll be here all week, bring a tip next time.” Merlin floated away smugly, leaving Arthur to glare after him.

*

“You know, I’m starting to think you fancy me,” Merlin said as Arthur patted him down with one of his receptors for the twenty-third time in as many days, repeating the same cycle.

“What,” said Arthur. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just doing my job. I’ll have you know I’m very good at my job! That I do every day! I’m very thorough.”

“Yes, I can feel that. I don’t think I have any secrets left, you know.”

“You’re a mystery. And I intend to unravel you, Merlin.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound untoward at all. Unravel me, Arthur!” he added in a breathy tone before laughing. “Though I can live with being mysterious. After all, I’m already tall, dark and handsome, right?”

“… I have no idea why I put up with you.”

“Yes, because I’m the one who’s following you around everywhere.”

“Well, you wouldn’t be the first, so there.”

“Hah.”

“…”

“See you tomorrow, I suppose?”

“Seven o’clock sharp, don’t be late!”

Merlin snorted as he swam away, Arthur gently floating after him.

*

“… Oh,” said Arthur, quietly.

“Oh,” Merlin echoed, as Arthur’s receptor locked on. “Two hundred and thirty-fourth time lucky?”

“You lied.” He wasn’t supposed to sound so devastated.

“I’m sorry. I would never hurt you or anyone else, though, I swear.”

“It’s my job. It’s… I have to lock you in a cell.” 

“…”

“I’m the cell, Merlin,” he said, sadly, before squeezing close.

And, _oh_. There was a tingly feeling all along Merlin’s outer layer. It was electrifying. Merlin hadn’t expected dying to feel like this. Arthur was enveloping him more and more, sucking him in, and Merlin felt warm everywhere, in a way he didn’t know was possible. He could feel Arthur pulsing against him. 

Then Arthur was all around him. After a while, the tingling dissipated to a comfortable heat. It felt like coming home. 

*

“Aren’t you supposed to digest me?” Merlin asked eventually.

“Aren’t you supposed to shut up? I’m not hungry right now. And you’re kind of heavy.”

Judging by the shudder that ran through Arthur, Merlin rather thought he felt a different kind of hunger.

“Besides, you can’t do any harm from here. And you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“All right,” Merlin said, just this once, and had a nap, finally home.

–-----------------------------------------

61.

Morgana prowls the club. She wants strong hands, strong thighs, a rough voice: one that can order her around, push her down, and fuck her. 

It's uncommon, but not entirely unusual. Her body burns, craving written into every pore. 

She finds a guy, big and strong and quiet, with rough hands that span her waist. He's got a gentle voice, though, and treats her like she's made of glass. He leaves with a delicate wisp of a girl, and Morgana doesn't feel upset about that. 

The next guy is subtle with hidden depths, and plays her body just right, if it were another time. She wants rough manhandling, not masochistic pleasure. She watches him charm her brother with a smirk and a laugh, those blue eyes not shy about making demands. Arthur won't join her at the club again, but she's not too concerned.

She settles eventually, goes home with a guy who isn't as strong as she'd like, but listens when she says she wants him to fuck her. He pulls her hair, spanks her, and bites her nipples. It's fun, it's rough, and it gets her out of her head.

"Thanks for the good time," Gwaine says the following morning. He presses a kiss to her cheek and leaves with a smile. 

-

A month or so later and she prowls again. Gwaine smiles at her, raises an eyebrow, and Morgana shakes her head. Gwaine was perfect - for what she wanted that week. This week, she wants something different. 

She wants a girl, soft and sweet beneath her hands. A girl Morgana can worship, can bite angry marks into the tender curve of her breast, and can consume until she's full. 

Sophia is haughty and demanding, but when Morgana has her hands tied to her bedposts, she moans and begs ever so sweetly. She tastes divine, and Morgana relishes the pleasure, both Sophia's and her own. 

\- 

Another few weeks and Morgana stays home, curls into Gwen with hot chocolate and a silly movie on the telly. It's comforting, a release of a different sort, and Gwen even offers a backrub. Morgana doesn't take her up on it, happy to just cuddle. No one cuddles quite like Gwen. It's the best when she laughs, truly laughs, and Morgana can feel her entire body vibrate. 

It's in one of those full body laughs of Gwen, when she's shaking with giggles, that Morgana blurts out, "I think something's wrong with me."

Morgana can feel Gwen freeze, but it's only for a moment and then she's relaxing back into Morgana while grabbing the remote and turning off the movie. 

"What do you mean?" Gwen asks. She rubs her hands up and down Morgana's back, and Morgana is thankful the room is mostly dark, because she can feel tears welling in her eyes.

"I always want different things for sex. All the time. It can't just be sex. And it's so rare when I do want it. I'm not romantically interested in anyone, just... I want sex."

"There's nothing wrong with wanting sex," Gwen tells her, "nothing wrong with wanting kinky sex, or different types of sex, and only wanting it sometimes."

"But-"

"I'm not done," Gwen interrupts. "Really, there's nothing wrong with it. You're safe, right? And don't promise your partners more than you can deliver?" She waits for Morgana's nod, then continues. "You might be asexual, or aromantic, or both? Or something else. There's a website, I'll send you the link tomorrow."

The knowledge that there's something she can ascribe to this, possibly people who understand - it's like a breath of fresh air, and she can't stop the tears from running over. Gwen holds her close while she cries silently, and when she's finished, she takes Gwen up on that offer of a backrub. 

-

Six weeks later, and she's back to the club. She wants wild and rough again, wicked pleasure and soothing pain. She passes up Gwaine again, refuses to look at Percy, and goes home with a girl, dark-haired and dark-eyed, who whispers sweet things with a smile that promises destruction. 

Mithian's smile doesn't lie. She takes Morgana apart, piece by piece, until Morgana's out of her head. She patches Morgana up, enough for her to return home before morning, and fall into Gwen's soft, soothing hands.

\-------------------

62.

**TUESDAY—001**

Arthur stares at the ceiling and smiles. Smiles until he’s laughing, until he has a sleepy, confused Merlin glare at him from the pillow next to him. Laughs until he cries, then kisses Merlin between his sobs. 

And holds him—holds him tight.

**MONDAY—306**

“Stay,” Arthur says. “Please, Merlin. Please stay.” 

He’s so tired, so _fucking_ tired and—in love. Arthur just—he wants Merlin to remember his favourite colour, and the way Arthur made him laugh on the way to the hotel. He wants Merlin to raise his head from his book in the morning and smile at him with recognition in his eyes. He wants habit in the way Merlin touches him. He wants Merlin to know exactly what he’s doing when he sucks on Arthur’s cockhead while pushing fingers inside of him.

Merlin sits on the edge of the bed, looks down at Arthur, and frowns. “You’re strange,” he says, but slides under the covers anyway.

**MONDAY—281**

“Are you sure?” Gwaine asks Arthur with a worried look. “I mean maybe there’s someone else or—”

“No. It’s him. There’s—There can’t be—No.”

**MONDAY—254**

Merlin smiles wide when Arthur slides _Slaughterhouse-five_ across the table one morning and says, “I liked this one better,” and sits to introduce himself.

Arthur doesn’t even think about fucking him.

**MONDAY—206**

Merlin likes it messy. Likes saliva and come and lube all over his body and between his thighs. Likes to come on Arthur’s face and lick it clean after, shameless with it. And Arthur—Arthur likes giving it all to him, lets himself be roughed up and taken apart.

“Stay,” he says after.

“Another day, maybe.” Merlin stands by the door.

Arthur wants to cry.

**MONDAY—168**

Arthur goes to Ealdor’s library and sits with _The Time Machine_ , then makes his way through all of Wells’ novels. 

He’s got time.

**MONDAY—167**

“Let’s pretend what you say is true,” Merlin says as he puts his trousers on then crawls over Arthur. He drags his fingers over the still-warm wet mess on Arthur’s stomach, and Arthur twitches, moans when Merlin sucks on his fingers. 

His cock makes a valiant effort to get back in the game. Merlin grins like he knows. 

Fuck. _Fuck_. Arthur might just be a bit in love.

Merlin licks Arthur’s ear before whispering, “Make me stay, then.”

**MONDAY—149**

“Okay, Gwaine says. “Say I believe you.” Arthur groans and hits his head on the table. “Hey, I’m indulging you here, mate.”

“You always do.”

“You should tell him. You know how the guy likes to be sucked. What makes him come and beg and moan like a pornstar. But for him, he’s just met you. You’re a stranger. You should tell him.

**MONDAY—079**

“Shit.”

**MONDAY—078**

Arthur’s never had his mouth fucked before. 

Now that it’s full of cock—Merlin’s fingers tight in his hair, holding his head still while tears cling to his eyelashes every time he pushes far enough to choke Arthur a little—he can’t remember why not.

When tomorrow _finally_ comes, he’s going to find out what else he’s been missing on.

**MONDAY—062**

“Okay,” Gwaine says. “Say I believe you.”

“The waitress will drop a plate in 5 seconds,” Arthur says, then waits for the crash. Of fucking course it happens.

“Say I believe you,” Gwaine repeats. “Why him?” He points toward the window booth and Arthur doesn’t have to look to know who’s there: Merlin, reading _The Time Machine_ , drinking shitty coffee with too much sugar.

“He’s the only one that—” Arthur says. “Every morning I say the same thing to him, _the same_ , and sometimes… _sometimes_ his answer just… changes.”

Gwaine’s silent for a moment. “Well,” he says, eventually. “There are worse things than having to shag that bloke.”

**MONDAY—033**

It takes him a very long time to stop panicking.

**MONDAY—001**

They walk by the diner on their way to the motel. It’s early morning and Ealdor smells fresh from the night’s rain. There’s a good looking bloke sitting in a booth by the window reading a book: dark hair, sharp cheekbones and full lips, with long white fingers wrapped around a cup of coffee. Arthur stops and stares. A little. 

“Wanna go say hi?” Gwaine says putting his chin over Arthur’s shoulder. “We don’t have to leave now.”

Arthur looks at the bloke, then pushes at Gwaine’s face with his hand.

“Nah,” he says, and starts walking again, “let’s just get out of this shithole.” He turns around one more time to check the bloke out before crossing the street. “There’ll be other ones.”


	8. Group D (no warnings)

63.

Captain Pendragon and the ship's engineer find themselves a private moment during the rest of the crew's sleep cycle.... and then Merlin accidentally hits the comm button.

[](http://imgur.com/6SPvA5c)

–-------------------------------

64.

[](http://imgur.com/hkFV2xS)

The cycles of desire, it circles around the need to _love_ and the need to _consume_

–-------------------------------

65.

Arthur never misses the spin cycle.

 

[](http://imgur.com/iEWiqcv)

 

–-------------------------------------

66.

 **Summary:** Every spring, the King of Albion must have the rituals performed by the High Priestess and Emrys himself.

 

[](http://imgur.com/uFfC6Pi)

–------------------------------

67.

 

[](http://imgur.com/4TtXKqX)

 

–------------------------------------------------

68.

[The Legend of the Oak King and the Holly King](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holly_King_\(archetype\))

 

 

–-------------------------------------

69.

**Love behind the bike shed**

[](http://imgur.com/6wN2hbB)


End file.
